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DAISY 


BDENTWELL 


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IRENE 


BY 


^ I D D E M E E 


[“Ireland Ward.”] 


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' ‘ If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue 
, this man’s religion is vain.”—ST. James, i. 26 . 



V 



P. 


NEW YORK: < 

PUTNAM’S SONS, 



pouhth: avenue and twenty-third street. 


18 7 6 . 




Copyright, 

O. P. PUTNAM’S SONS. 
1876. 



* 




TO 


MY MOTHER, 

WHOSE SYMPATHY AHD ENCOURAGEMENT HAVE BEEN 

MY GREATEST AIDS, THIS, MY FIRST STORY, 

IS LOVINGLY INSCRIBED. 

New York, 1875. 





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• 9 



DAISY BRENTWELL 


CHAPTER I 


* Death ! ere thou hast slain another, 
Learned and great and good as he. 
Time shall throw a dart at thee.” 


—Ben Jonson. 



K. D ORE ANN was dead. The little bell of St. 


Paul’s Church tolled out seventy-six as solemnly 
as such a brisk, cheerful little bell could toll. It was 
the very bell that Dr. Doreann had so strongly opposed 
purchasing during his life-time, maintaining that the 
old one which had pealed forth its cracked tones for 
over sixty years, was in the estimation of any sensible 
man,” to be preferred to any new one that could possibly 
be purchased. Dr. Doreann had been vestryman and 
warden of St. Paul’s during forty of those sixty years. 
He had been one of the pillars of the church, the 
rector’s strong friend and supporter ; and, during all 
the years of Mr. Brentwell’s rectorship, his wishes and 
opinions had been more influential than those of any 
other man in the parish. Five years before the Doctor’s 


2 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


death, when the old church had been torn down, and 
one of newer fashion built, Doreann had protested 
against it in vain. His arguments were spoken as unto 
deaf men ; and when the clergyman and other vestry- 
men endeavored to convince him of the benefit of a new 
and substantial building, where feet could be kept warm 
in the winter, and where no rattling windows would 
drown the clergyman’s voice and keep up a constant 
discordant chorus to the choir, he in his turn, was deaf. 
In vain they argued the many colds caught there, the 
fevers brought on by draughts, and the congregation 
that was in consequence diminishing. Hot a few un- 
charitable souls gave those very colds and fevers as a 
reason for the doctor’s obstinacy ; and they were not a 
little ashamed when after the completion of the new 
church, the doctor subscribed five hundred dollars 
toward paying off the debt that remained ; it being a 
larger amount than any one in Hewfield had ever 
thought it possible to give for church purposes. Even 
with the doctor’s gift the worthy church people would 
never have paid for their new edifice ; other means were 
employed in order to raise the required sum. And herg 
a second controversy with the doctor was started. 

The old church had been built of valuable stone, 
while the new one was built of frame. Therefore, after 
the foundation was laid of stone, there was a sufficient 
quantity remaining to build a house. As they already 
owned a rectory, and no other building was needed, 
they concluded to sell it. Fortunately a purchaser was 


DAISY BKEXTWELL. 


3 


soon found ; and the price offered was enough to pay off 
the remaining debt. The clergyman, and the vestry- 
men with the exception of Dr. Doreann, were delighted 
with the sale, and would have hastened to close the bar- 
gain. To the doctor it was the height of sacrilege. 
That he should live to see the day, he moaned, when 
the stone of St. Paul’s time-honored church should be 
converted into a farm-house I N’or could he be brought 
to see that there were no other means by which the 
requisite sum could be raised. But the majority, with 
the rector’s sanction, ruled. So the stone was sold and 
the church paid for. 

Then arose another question ; or one which resolved 
itself into two. Were the organ and the bell fit for 
farther use ? The first was quickly settled : the organ 
was not. Even Dr. Doreann, little as he knew of music 
and fond as he was of the old instrument, assented to 
that, and went himself with young Horatio Brentwell 
to purchase a new one. That was all very well, consid- 
ering that the old one had ceased to be an instrument 
of music, seeming more like an instrument of torture, 
:^om the sighs and .groans and moans which escaped it 
when any one attempted to. play upon it. Yes, the new 
organ was certainly necessary ; but was the bell ? Again 
Dr. Doreann waxed eloquent on the subject ; again he 
spoke unto deaf men, and again he grew deaf when 
they addressed him. His eloquence was of no avail ; 
the new bell was bought. Hot a grand one like the 
old one had been, but a small shrill affair, that always 


4 


DAISY BKEI^TWELL. 


yexed the church people when they heard its tones. 
Miss Crissy Wells reported — and she was the yillage 
authority — that Dr. Doreann actually shed tears when 
the old bell was taken away to the foundry ; where it 
was giyen in part payment for the new one. But 
whether that was true or not, it was well known that 
through the few remaining years of his life the good old 
man neyer heard the bell without sadly shaking his 
white head; and a few years later when some of the 
enterprising yestry-men proposed having a clock on the 
church, the doctor threatened to leave the village ; at 
which the towns-people as with one voice, cried out 
against the clock. And even Mr. Brentwell said that it 
would not be a wise step, although having a clock in the 
tower of St. PauFs Church was the darling wish of his 
heart. 

Seventy-six ! The little bell tolled out the years in 
such a lively, defiant manner that it was almost a won- 
der the doctor could lie so still. Mother Wade, who 
was at the time, employed in the sad office of preparing 
him for burial, afterward solemnly averred that she felt 
the poor old body shake at every stroke : but Mother 
Wade was not village authority. Ah ! the bell may.^ 
laugh and jeer in exultation now ; for that gray head 
will never shake again. 

Fifty years before, David Doreann M. D., came to 
FTewfield with his widowed mother and his sister. He 
hung out his sign, and sat down to wait for patients. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


5 


He found it necessary to call into service all the hopeful- 
ness and patience that he and his mother and sister pos- 
sessed, before any came to him. It was known that he 
sat in that poorly furnished little office for two whole 
months before he was even called to see a colicky infant ; 
and Mrs. Doreann would tell, in her childish old age, 
how David changed the furniture in the office seven 
times, each time endeavoring to make it look more 
cheerful and inviting to any one in search of a physician. 
It is trte half the village called upon Mrs. Doreann, 
and inquired diligently into her affairs, and went away 
satisfied that they were not starving and were clothed — 
and there their information ended. The lady and her 
daughter returned these calls in shabby clothes, and the 
village gossips after close inspection and comparing of 
notes, concluded that they wore their best. 

But these days came to an end. The doctor’s first 
patient came in the shape of Mr. Van Pike himself. 
This gentleman and his family, you must know, were 
the sole aristocrats of the village. He was thrown from 
his horse, and fortunately for the doctor, directly in 
front of the office door, and was taken in there imme- 
diately. His injuries were serious; but Dr. Doreann was 
successful, and he soon recovered. Mrs. Luce, who 
always followed in the wake of the Van Pike’s, then em- 
ployed the young physician for her son who was ill of a 
fever, and when he recovered nothing was talked of but 
Doreann’s wonderful skill ; and his reputation was fairly 
established. His practice increased daily. The younger 


6 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


and nninarried portion of the ladies began growing 
weakly about this time. They had no direct symptoms, 
only they required frequent visits from the young phy- 
sician, for which their papas had to pay very long bills ; 
but all to no avail. They might one and all have died, 
and not one spot in his heart would have been touched, 
save for the loss of a patient. As he grew prosperous 
the villagers noticed that he paid frequent visits to 
Fairhope, Newfield’s ‘nearest neighbor. And when upon 
investigation it was proved that a young lady "was the 
attraction, there was a gi*eat falling off among his fair 
patients. At length it was known that he was engaged 
to a Miss Millie Stout of that village. The people of 
Newfield several times set his wedding day, but he was 
* not married nevertheless ; and as nothing was heard 
from the family in reference to the event, it was less and 
less talked of until the subject was dropped and per- 
haps forgotten, save by a few maidens who had really 
taken the handsome physician into their hearts. 

About a year after the announcement of his engage- 
ment, a great change came over Dr. Doreann. He 
avoided all gay assemblies of which he had formerly 
been the life ; he was never heard to laugh or seen to 
smile, and acted as if he hated the world. He forgot 
the cheerful and encouraging words he had always had 
for his patients, and was once known to tell a sick man 
that he was going to die, when he was really on the way 
to recovery. He forgot the smile and playful words 
with which he had greeted the children on the street. 


DAISY BREisTWELL. 


7 


and frightened them as he repulsed them sternly when 
they made timid advances toward their old friend. He 
merely recognized his acquaintances when he met them, 
and completely ignored all young ladies. In short, he 
went around like one demented ; and it Avas reported by 
Miss Crissy Wells, that he Avas brought home one night 
intoxicated. But Miss Crissy’s talent for gossiping had 
not at that time, reached the state of perfection it did 
in after years. We must begin in every vocation, at 
the foot of the ladder ; and the climbing is sIoav. Miss 
Crissy, at the time our story opens, had gained the top 
round of the ladder of her fame, but in the younger 
days of Dr. Doreann, she was just starting at the foot. 
So her statement was not credited by all, especially as 
there were a few judging friends who whispered that * 
Miss Crissy might be entreated to become Mrs. David 
Doreann. 

The clergyman Avho was then rector of St. Paul’s had 
always taken a father’s interest in the young man, and 
was greatly pained by the reports that were circulated, 
and in particular by this last one. He saw that Doreann 
was losing ground, and that his patients were leaving 
him. This clergyman was a very old man and one 
well beloved, not only by his own parish, but by all of 
the towns-people. He had seen sorrow in his former 
life, and had come forth from the furnace of affliction 
with his gold refined. 

Miss Nettie and Mrs. Doreann had alv^s attended 
St. Paul’s. The doctor had done so at first, Avhen he was 


8 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


trying to win patients by his exemplary conduct ; but 
when they came and his practice was established, he was' 
rarely seen in the church. The clergyman saw this with 
sorrow, and had long and serious conversations with 
him on the subject, but apparently with no result. The 
clergyman sowed his seed, and watered it with his 
prayers, but God gives the increase ; so the good man 
waited. There were two other hearts raised in almost 
hourly supplication for the careless son and brother. 
And were these prayers answered? As the Saviour raised 
to life the son of the widow of Nain, so He brought to 
life immortal this widow’s son. 

But there had come a change over Dr. Doreann, but 
not of the kind they had prayed for. And it was then 
the good old clergyman dared to approach him again. 
There is a balm in Gilead, and that balm he poured upon 
the wounded heart. Dr. Doreann was from that time 
another man. The prayers which these three righteous 
persons had offered in faith, were heard. The doctor, 
who never did anything by halves in his life, certainly 
did not lead a half-way Christian life. He had given 
liis whole heart to his Saviour, and he followed Him 
faithfully during the remaining years of his life. 

But what of the towns-people during this time ? It 
is not by any means to be supposed that they kept silent. 
They looked on in wonder and amazement. He was 
talked of in every house, by every tongue. And after 
the usual greeting between neighbors, the first remark 
generally was, ‘'Have you seen the doctor lately?” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


9 


is the doctor ^^They say that Dr. Doreann’s 
growing worse ; my ma thinks he will be crazy soon ; ” 
or something of the same character. His sayings were 
repeated ; and when he was seen to pass a house, every 
member of the family was called to view him and give 
afresh their opinion of his conduct. 

When the second and greater change came over him, 
and he was known to have become a communicant in St. 
Paul’s Church, certain good persons of the village were 
heard to say, I tol’ ye so. I knew it was his^sins that 
was troublin’ him. If he’d only a’ come to me, now, I’d 
’ave taken comfort in p’inting out the evil of his 
ways. I hope he was in ’arnest, and he’s truly experi- 
enced religion, but I don’t know about them ’Pisco- 
pals, with their forms, an’ bowin’, an’ sech like.” And 
in a prayer-meeting shortly after, one man informed 
the Lord that a new member had been added to the Epis- 
copal Church, expressing a hope at the same time, that 
He would look after him, and teach him to pray without 
a book. 

A few years later, Newfield was electrified by the in- 
telligence that Miss Millie Stout was married, and had 
been a long time. So the mystery of the doctor’s 
strange conduct was solved, and they knew at the same 
time, as by intuition, that he was not to be regarded 
as a marrying man. His sister had less young lady 
friends in consequence ; and a few families dropped off 
from his list, going back to the old physician who was 
completely married, as his wife was the largest woman 
1 * 


10 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


in town, and they had twelve hearty children. But on 
his death, which occurred soon after, there was no 
choice allowed ; every one had to go back to Dr. Do- 
reann, as he was the only physician within ten miles or 
more of Newfield. 

Mrs. Doreann had always been weakly, and as she 
grew old, she became a confirmed invalid, taking to her 
bed from which she never arose. Twelve years she lay 
in the pleasant parlor bed-room, upon a bed of pain ; 
twelve years she watched the busy passers-by, and heard 
their happy voices ; twelve summers she saw the roses 
that she had planted in the little garden bloom sweetly 
and then perish ; twelve winters she saw the snow 
fall and melt away ; twelve years of uncomplaining 
waiting ; twelve years a loving son bent over her ; 
twelve years a faithful daughter gave up all girlish en- 
joyments, all other loves, for that mother ; twelve years 
— yet not twelve — a lover waited to claim his betrothed : 
three months before Mrs. Doreann went to her rest, 
Nettie’s lover was called to his. And by their graves 
she vowed to make the care of her brother her first 
duty in life. Faithfully she kept that vow. So they 
lived on together, growing nearer and dearer to one an- 
other as the years passed. The old rector died and Mr. 
Brentwell was called to fill his place. Between the doc- 
tor and tills clergyman a strong friendship sprang up, 
which lasted while Doreann lived. 

The physician had not been ill long ; he had caught 
violent cold and would no doubt have gotten over it, if 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


11 


he had taken the least care of himself ; but he was one 
of those few men who think of themselves last ; who say 
little of the principle of unselfishness, but practise it 
until their life’s end. 

One cold night Miss Nettie gave him on retiring, 
an old-fashioned dose of herb-tea, warranted to cure a 
cold in one sweating. He had just gotten into the re- 
quired sweat and was enjoying his first nap, when the 
office bell rang violently. Miss Nettie’s head appeared 
from the window in answer to it. A withered old man 
stood Itelow : his wife was ill, he cried. So was the doc- 
tor ; his wife must wait until morning ! She would be 
dead by morning, the little withered man moaned. But 
Miss Nettie was unrelenting, and the man would have 
gone home alone if another head had not appeared upon 
the window-scene. Well, it amounted to this, that the 
doctor in spite of his sister’s entreaties, went home with 
the withered old man, cured his withered old wife of a 
slight bilious attack, came home, and died. Not right 
away ; but in a week. And then it was that St. Paul’s 
brisk little bell announced to the people of Newfield 
that their well-loved physician was dead. His death was 
regretted deeply by all ; nothing else was talked of in 
the village ; and many wept. 

There was one pair of eyes that did not weep ; their 
fountain of tears was wept dry years ago over the graves 
of an early lover and of a tender mother, who had left her 
years of waiting, while David was but a day ahead. The 
skiff that carried him over was returning, and she stood 


12 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


upon the shore. She had taken her seat by the body of 
her brother, and there she remained. Visitors — curious, 
prying visitors — came ; sympathizing friends spoke to 
her ; warm hands clasped hers ; broken prayers were 
murmured for her there ; but she heeded none. She 
saw nothing but the dead face that had been David’s ; 
she heard nothing but his dying words, and over and 
over again they sounded in her ears : ‘‘They are there, 
Nettie ; father, mother, John. Hasten, sister, we will be 
waiting for you.” Waiting for her ! Again and again 
she muttered it over. Father, mother, Johi^ — and 
now David — together in that celestial home, waiting 
for her, and she was on earth alone. Oh, so alone ! 
There was not one in the breadth or the width of the 
land to love her. There were friends, kind ones ; but 
she was only “poor, old Miss Nettie” to them. They 
pitied her, and many would have taken her into their 
homes — but she eould never have entered their hearts : 
she would have been — with all their sympathy — an old 
spinster, in her lonely room, out of the way. 

Alone ! There was David’s hat, and there was his 
cane in the further corner, where he had put them 
when he entered that night ; and the medicine-case on 
the office table, where his chilled liands had thrown it — 
the hands that never felt the life-blood warm in them 
again. There was the old office furniture, the oil cloth 
worn where his feet had rested, the leather-covered chair 
with the hair-stuffing escaping here and there, the book- 
case filled with old books — now and then one of modern 


f 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


13 


date, tlie account-book lying open on bis table, the last 
visit — save this one — recorded, a few stiff chairs ranged 
around the room, and a little clock, of later purchase, 
that ticked wearily on the wall. There were a few old 
man’s old-fashioned garments hanging in the closet of 
his bed-room, and the Bible on the little white-covered 
stand by the bed-side, and the Prayer-Book from which 
they had prayed together for fifty years. 

There were a few books that mother used to read ; 
and in the corner of the prim parlor stood an old clock 
solemnly measuring the time, which father and mother 
purchased with their savings. There was a large oil- 
painting near it, of a stiff old gentleman in a stiff collar, 
and with black hair brushed flat down on his face — all 
that Miss Nettie knew of her father. 

There was a little wooden box up stairs, which had 
been handsome once, with flowers painted upon it — 
bright wreaths of forget-me-nots. It was sadly de- 
faced, now, and the forget-me-nots were gone from the 
cover but never from the heart. A package of old 
letters lay within the box, surrounded by musty love- 
gifts. The letters were long, and they were love let- 
ters, genuine ones, of the kind that are never written 
in these days. 

Of the dead and gone these were left her — only these — 
a few mocking remembrances of father, mother, John, 
and now David. Father went sixty years before. Moth- 
er and John went thirty years ago : looking back now it 
seemed like yesterday. David stood by her then, and with 


14 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


his firm, true heart bore her up. Then there were thirty 
years of peaceful living with him, when he had filled 
every nook and crevice of her heart, and she of his. And 
they were years of drawing nearer to God ; years of sweet 
Christian communion that bore much fruit. And they 
were waiting for her now, these few loved ones. No 
word escaped Miss Nettie’s closed lips ; she sat with 
tightly clasped hands, and with her eyes fixed in a 
strong gaze upon that wrinkled, dead face. 

It was the custom in Newfield for every one that the 
town contained to go and view the corpse while it was 
laid out in the house. So people of every station and 
every age and of both sexes, flocked to see the remains 
of Dr. Doreann. Tears were dropped on his face, and 
soft kisses were pressed upon his lips ; for the name of 
the old man’s friends had been legion. 

It was the day before the funeral. The body had 
been viewed by about every individual in the town ; and 
nothing was left hut for them to talk it over, and for 
Miss Nettie to keep watch alone. Mother Wade, who 
had been employed by Mr. Brentwell to take charge of 
the house and the half-crazed sister, had with unheard 
of delicacy, withdrawn to another part of the house. 
Miss Nettie, at the close of the afternoon, was seated 
entirely alone when the door of the parlor softly opened, 
and a little bent-up old woman clad in rusty black en- 
tered. She looked anxiously at Miss Nettie as she ap- 
proached the coflin, but that mourning creature did not 
raise her eyes. The woman stroked back the gray hair 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


15 


from the cold forehead with a hand that showed marks 
of years of toil, as she gazed sorrowfully down on the 
face. There were lines of care written there that death 
could not efface. With the same toil-worn hand she 
tried to smooth them away. Ah ! did she remember 
the day when she wrote the first thereon ? She took 
up the stiffened hand, and kneeling down by the corpse, 
she leaned her head upon it, while her heart went back 
over the fifty years that had elapsed since those hands 
had met before ; then a youth’s strong hand had clasped 
a maiden’s rosy fingers whose clinging tenderness had 
strengthened his manhood. 

Oh, David ! David ! ” she wept, I did love you ; 
they told you false. All my life I’ve loved you. And 
now you are dead, dead, and I alive.” Cry on, old 
woman, weep and moan for the anguish you caused 
that heart. Cry on : what will the dead man care ? 
Cover his old face with the kisses you refused him once. 
Lay your gray head Qn his breast, and let your strag- 
gling locks fall on his shoulder. He will not return 
those caresses ; he will not press you to his bosom ; he 
will not twine your hair around his fingers, and beg for 
it ! Ah, but death is stronger than love ! 

Miss Nettie raised her head when she heard her 
brother’s Christian name uttered ; she had thought that 
sacred to herself. She looked at the kneeling figure for 
one moment, then rising, went slowly around to her. 
She laid her hand upon her head, but as the woman 
did not look up, she raised the face with her hand. 


16 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


Millie,” she said, sadly and in great surprise, why 
did you come here ? ” 

The woman, who had been Millie Stout, arose. 
Oh, Nettie ! ” she moaned, me stay ; I have come 
to mourn with you.” 


CHAPTER 11. 


In a dirty old house lived a Dirty Old Man ; 

Soap, towels, or brushes were not in his plan. 

For forty long years, as the neighbors declared. 

His house never once had been cleaned or repaired.” 

— William Allikgham. 

^^TEWFIELD was built upon the bank of a river ; a 
still, narrow, but deep stream, that seemed to 
delight to bury loved forms in its depths. In other 
words, some one was constantly being drowned in it, 
especially the small boys. So mothers were wont to be 
rejoiced when evening came, and their young sons were 
one day longer spared to them ; another day had passed, 
and the errant boy was yet alive. But the morning’s 
dawn only served to renew their fears and anxiety. 

A little less than a nyle above the village there lived an 
old fisherman — Sam Lukens by name — who was noted 
among other things, for the length and improbability of 
his yarns and his willingness to spin them. Here the 
school-boys flocked on Saturdays, and sat with open 
mouth and ears taking in his wonderful adventures, his 
miraculous draughts of Ashes and hair-breadth escapes 
from drowning. * A few larger boys could not credit his 
encounters with the whales, which, he said, had taken 
place a few years before in that very same river “ Before 
Newfield was settled,” he would say, ‘‘ the river was full 


18 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


of them. Many a one I’ve caught with my rod and line, 
measuring a half a mile long.” But they excused this 
little inaccuracy, and put more faith in the next story. 

In vain parents protested against these visits, where 
the boys learned so much harm. They talked to them 
on the first offence '; and Sam’s imperfections were 
brought out with startling plainness. Next they threat- 
ened, and on the third visit the youth was severely 
punished. But there was not a boy in Newfield, with 
a morsel of pluck, who would not have endured whip- 
pings, dark closets, supperless beds, father’s prayers, 
and worse than all — mother’s tears — a score of times, to 
be able to pay one visit to Sam Lukens. There were, to 
be sure, a few slow boys in the village who had no taste 
for literature — as Sam related it ; no taste for the roman- 
tic — in Sam’s boat ; no taste for history — of Sam’s knowl- 
edge ; no desire to become accomplished — as Sam was ; 
but then there are always such chicken-hearts in every 
place, and any boy knows that they are not worth minding. 

Lukens’ hut comprised one room. He had built it 
himself, and of such materials as logs, mud, and strayed 
shingles. A low door hung somewhere about the centre, 
and there was a small window in either end, filled with 
rags and muddy panes. The roof was fiat and thatched 
with straw from the neighboring fields, and boards from 
the neighboring fences. The cot faced the river and 
the narrow road ran between ; to the back was Farmer 
Mayhew’s potato patch — Sam lived on fish and potatoes. 
It was one of his boasts that a woman’s foot had never 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


19 


crossed his threshold ; it could well be a woman’s prayer 
that it might never be necessary. 

Passers-by looked on the squalid shanty with elevated 
noses, and hastened by ; but the outside was purity com- 
pared with the interior. The one room it contained was 
not more than ten feet square ; the walls had never been 
plastered, and the chinks and crevices were filled with 
mud. The floor was made of boards from Farmer May- 
hew’s fence, but many years’ mud and grease had placed 
them beyond recognition ; and Sam’s floor was double 
its original depth. Tobacco, broken pipes, ashes, pota- 
to-skins, fish-bones and scales, and bits of rags and paper, 
carpeted that floor. His bed, a bundle of straw, lay in 
one corner. A broken table and a few chairs completed 
the furniture of the room. The walls were ornamented 
with fishing-tackle, old baskets, nets, guns, hoes, shovels, 
pipes, soiled coats, worn jackets, and oars of various 
sizes, which would fit all the neighboring boats ; and 
Sam possessed keys to unlock all the padlocks of those 
boats. But he owned a boat himself. Sam would not 
have been Sam without that boat. Yet there was noth- 
ing suiqDrising in the fact that he preferred his neigh- 
bors’; for his own leaked, and was slimy and fishy, and the 
painting, if it ever had been painted, was a thing of the 
past ; for no vestige of color remained upon it. The 
seats were broken, and the oars fitted poorly — altogether 
it was a worn-out old skiff. 

Sam was short and thick-set. His head was almost 
upon his shoulders, his neck being so short that it was 


20 


DAISY BKEISTTWELL. 


not worth mentioning. His small eyes, which were 
set deep in his head, were cold hard gray — unfeeling, 
murderous gray eyes that no one looked into without 
shuddering. But they were not a prominent feature- of 
his face ; they were too much shaded by the shaggy eye- 
brows and lashes to be well seen. His square forehead 
was quite hidden by the matted gray hair, which, he 
boasted, had not been combed or cut for years, and 
likely never would be again. The lower portion of his 
face was covered an iron-gray beard ; and the immense 
red nose, and the small part of his bronzed cheeks that 
was seen, were badly pitted with small-pox. Sam’s gar- 
ments in the summer time were few : in winter he gen- 
erally wore his whole wardrobe at one time, and then 
was dressed in rags. 

There was certainly nothing in Lukens’ external 
appearance that attracted the village boys and attached 
them to him. His attractions consisted in a few natural 
things. First, he was the rage : what one boy does, an- 
other boy must do, and one boy had become interested 
in his tales and brought others. These long stories 
were always ^^to be continued” at the next visit, after 
the fashion of the Arabian Nights’ Entertainments — so 
one visit never sufficed. And in the second place, he 
displayed his accomplishments, which were not a few in 
number, to the delight of the admiring youths. He 
was particularly adept in sleight-of-hand; and would 
sometimes reward a special service performed for him by 
one of the boys, by instructing him in some trick. So 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


21 


many of them became his willing servants. And when 
he sailed in his old boat, gentlemen’s sons rowed for 
him, gentlemen’s sons baited his hook, gentlemen’s sons 
took off the fish, and there were gentlemen’s sons to wait 
•upon him generally. Sometimes they went as far in his 
service, when an extra inducement was offered, as to sell 
the fish in Fairhope, or in Luntown, a village on the 
opposite bank of the river. But this was rarely repeated, 
and never after the boys’ parents heard of it, which they 
did usually and in a marvellously short time. 

Among Sam’s acquirements were stealing, lying, 
swearing, drinking, smoking, and chewing. These he 
taught without any wish for recompense, doubtless 
feeling that his reward for doing so would come in an- 
other world. 

Saturdays and Sundays were his court days. Then 
he sat upon his three-legged throne, relating wonder- 
ful adventures. In his mouth was a little black pipe. 
Only upon one occasion had he allowed himself to 
get angry with one of his visitors. One Sunday after- 
noon a new boy came to visit the hut. He was there 
but a short time when he was filled with regret for 
having thus disobeyed his parents, and for not having 
kept the Lord’s Day holy. So to make his conscience 
easier, he determined to preach a short but impressive 
sermon to Sam, that would result in the old man’s im- 
mediate conversion, and by doing so perform a lasting 
service for Newfield, and render himself noted among its 
inhabitants. 


22 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


Sam,” he began, don’t you ever go to church ? ” 

‘‘No,” growled Sam. 

“ Well,” he continued, waxing eloquent, “ it’s very 
wrong not — ” 

Lukens seized the boy by the collar and threw him 
out of the open door, swearing awful oaths and mut- 
tering curses upon the would-be missionary’s head. 

;* “Get home with you,” he said savagely, “and if 
you ever come here again, it’ll be the last of your sneak- 
ing face.” 

The child picked himself up, and ran home at the 
top of his speed. When he penitently acknowledged 
his sin to his parents, they felt very thankful to Sam for 
his conduct ; for that act saved their boy from ruin. 

In all the town of Newfield, Sam Lukens had pos- 
sessed but one friend ; and that had been Dr. Doreann. 
What strange tie bound these two men of such widely 
different natures together, no one knew. But it was 
known that they had been true friends all the years of 
Sam’s sojourn in the village. 


OHAPTEE III. 


They grew in beauty side by side ; 
They filled one home with glee.” 


—Mrs. Hemans, 


T. PAUL’S Ohurcli stood on the bank of the river, 



about a mile below Sam Lukens’ hut. It was a 
little brown frame building. It was not in the least 
Gothic, but clap-boarded, and had two tiers of small 
windows of plain glass. 

Mr. Brentwell, who had been the rector for over 
twenty years, came there fresh from theological studies 
and was admitted to the priesthood in the old church 
within the space of a year. Immediately after this ordi- 
nation his salary was raised from four hundred to six 
hundred dollars, and several of the laymen hinted that 
a clergyman’s wife would be acceptable in the parish ; 
that he could now afford to get married ; and they spoke 
of their willingness to purchase the little stone house 
next door to the church for a parsonage. And the ladies 
talked of quilting-parties, carpet weavings, house warm- 
ings and so forth, before the young man. He did not 
appear to notice these things, but they had the desired 
effect. One morning in the early spring he left the 
village^ informing no one of his errand or destination ; 
and in regard to both of which speculation was rife. 


24 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


And the particular Mrs. Grundy to wliose care the morals 
of Newfield were intrusted, was highly incensed and justly 
indignant that she had not been consulted, when after a 
week’s absence, he returned, accompanied by a blushing 
little lady whom he introduced as Mrs. Brentwell. 

The ladies of St. Paul’s parish were so gratified by 
his ready perception of their very plain and profuse 
hints, and so pleased by his compliance with them, that 
they soon forgave him for not making known his inten- 
tions. They were surprised to learn that he had been 
engaged to be married to the lady for many years, and 
that it had only been his inability to support a wife that 
had delayed the marriage. 

The stone house was bought, and the ladies revelled 
in the anticipated quiltings and weavings. A striped 
carpet of wondrous beauty was woven for the parlor ; 
counterpanes and linen sheets for tlie beds. Comforters 
were pieced and quilted. Mrs. Brentwell’s father gave 
them some plain furniture for the parlor ; and Mr. 
Brentwell had saved a small sum from his salary, which 
together with the few articles donated by the gentlemen 
of the parish, completed the furnishing ; and the cler- 
gyman and his wife were domiciled therein. There was 
not a happier home in all Newfield than theirs became. 
The parishioners found it out ; so their visitors were 
numerous. And to the great regret of the young rector, 
there was rarely an evening alone with his wife ; there 
were gentlemen in the study discussing theology or poli- 
tics ; ladies in the sitting-room talking of the fashions. 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


25 


repeating wonderful recipes for cooking, comparing 
notes on patterns or bed-quilts, or making known some 
great discovery in the dyeing art — an unfailing way to 
make colors fast. There were few in Newfield who kept 
servants ; so the ladies were silent on that highly edi- 
fying theme, which housekeepers now-a-days find to be 
such a prolific topic of conversation. Mrs. Brentwell’s 
mother with the assistance of her two daughters, had 
done the housework for a large farm ; the only hired ser- 
vants being the men, who ate with the family, and con- 
sidered themselves part of it. Most of the hiewfield 
ladies would have had the same experience to relate. 
So when Mrs. Lewis announced that her Ann was 
getting to be a splendid ironer ; she could beat Tier 
all holler,” it was considered the best eulogium that a 
mother could bestow upon her daughter ; and the lis- 
tening dames nodded approvingly, while the aspiring 
maidens who were present, secretly determined to prac- 
tise up in the smoothing art. 

Mrs. Brentwell was a little below medium height : 
she was strong and healthy and went through her daily 
tasks with little fatigue, although those tasks were not 
few or light. She arose the year around, at an early 
hour: milking came first — an art of which ‘^dear 
George ” was happily ignorant ; then the chickens and 
ducks were fed, the dairy work done, breakfast prepared 
and eaten, the dishes washed, and the already tidy house 
‘^put to rights.” Then followed baking, washing, iron- 
ing, or whatever that day might have been set apart for. 

2 


26 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


Dinner came at twelve. Making, mending, patching, 
darning, or spinning, occupied the afternoon. After the 
snjDper the poultry were again fed and sent to roost ; 
the milking was repeated, and cows properly put to bed ; 
and when Mrs. Brentwell herself retired, it was always 
with the happy remembrance of a good day’s work done, 
and done well. 

She went on in this busy life for two years, when an- 
other care was added in the shape of an infant boy — as 
handsome a child as children always are in their extreme 
youth ; but a care notwithstanding his beauty. Mr. 
Brentwell was much impressed by the arrival of the 
stranger. He went around like one in a dream, forget- 
ting that men have been fathers since Cain came into the 
world, and like Adam, feeling himself to be the first. 
He felt the responsibility of being a parefit from the 
hour of the infant’s birth, and grew grave accordingly : 
it was a serious thing to have an undying soul com- 
mitted to his keeping. So while his wife lay thinking 
what the child’s name should be, Mr. Brentwell retired 
to his study to meditate and pray for him and to devise 
plans for the course which he should pursue in bringing 
him up in the way he should go. The name did not 
enter his thoughts until a few days later, when Mrs. 
Brentwell suggested that the baby should be called Her- 
bert Augustus, which was her ideal of a name. The cler- 
gyman was horrified. Herbert Augustus ! his son, his 
only son ! never ! Why not Andrew, after his father, 
or Ephraim after her brother, or David for the doctor ? 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


27 


Mrs. Brentwell, figuratively speaking, arose in her 
wrath. Andrew ! Ephraim ! David ! of all names none 
uglier, or more inappropriate for the little darling ! Mr. 
Brentwell returned to his study, and spent the re- 
mainder of the day in examining the list of Chris- 
tian names which the Dictionary contained, while Mrs. 
Brentwell shed a few silent tears over her lost Herbie, 
and set her busy mind to work to find a name that 
would, while it was beautiful, meet with the approba- 
tion of her husband. The result was that after a long 
and earnest consultation, the parents found that they 
would both have to yield their tastes ; and the child 
was called Horatio. He was baptized at the age 
of four weeks, in a gorgeously embroidered robe — a 
gift from the ladies of the parish. 

When alf of these preliminaries were settled, the child 
began to grow rapidly, and increased astonishingly in 
weight and beauty — ^being in the eyes of the young par- 
ents the handsomest of all children ever born — and 
there never would he another equal to him. Hor were 
they the only ones who considered him such a prodigy ; 
half the church — that is the older portion whose infants 
were grown up — thought him the most remarkable babe 
in Hewfield since their own were young. Horatio bore 
all of these honors with indifference, and conducted him- 
self as infants generally do. At times he was good and 
would obligingly sleep half the day, unmindful of the 
number of times the bowed window-shutters were softly 
opened, and he was displayed by his happy mother to an 


28 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


admiring neighbor ; and at other times, especially in the 
night season, his wakefulness and screams were amazing. 
He would rouse his dignified father from a dream of a 
bishopric, and force him to walk the floor with him in his 
arms until the poor man was distracted with fatigue and 
real fear that the child was insane : no rational being, 
he declared, could go on in this manner. 

When Horatio was a little over two years old, an- 
other child was born to them. This time, to Mrs. 
Brentwell’s delight, it was a girl. But Mr. Brentwell 
was much troubled ; he was doing his duty by the boy, 
and bringing him up in the proper way, but as for a 
girl — he had no idea what way she should go in. So 
he showed very little interest in her ; and the neglect 
greatly pleased his wife, who imagined that he would be 
quite as indifferent concerning the choice of tlie name, and 
she studied and thought again to choose a beautiful one. 
The result of her meditations was, that the child’s full 
name should be Isabella Evangeline, and she should be 
called Bella or Eva, for short. She laughed to herself, as 
she kissed the little dark face that lay beside her, and 
then sent for her husband and communicated her inten- 
tions to him. He made no reply to her eager remarks, 
but looked at her tongue, felt her pulse, and shook 
his head solemnly as he inquired of the nurse the length 
of time that she had been in this critical state. Mrs. 
Brentwell and that lady made no answer, but to stare at 
him, and there was a general misunderstanding as he 
left the room, which he endeavored to remedy by send- 


DAISY BEEl^TWELL. 


29 


ing for the physician. When Dr. Doreann arrived, he 
soon convinced him that his wife was perfectly sane, 
and that Isabella Evangeline ’’ was simply the result 
of having read too many novels in her girlhood. But, 
notwithstanding this wise consultation, Mrs. Brentwell 
continued to call the child by that name ; and Mother 
W ade, who was the nurse, grew very loquacious at times 
on the subject of the sweet Bella,” and little angel 
Eva,” to Mr. BrentwelFs annoyance. He said nothing, 
however, but waited until his wife was fully recovered, 
hoping that by that time she would herself see how very 
ridiculous such a name was, and would be content with 
something plain and sensible. But as time passed, and 
even the village people talked of Bella Brentwell,” and 
^^Eva” was frequently inquired after, he determined 
that it was high time something was done. So one even- 
ing when he was certain that his wife was perfectly ra- 
tional, he mentioned the name for the first time, and 
asked her if she really desired that the babe should be 
called Isabella Evangeline. Mrs. Brentwell replied that 
she earnestly did desire it. He advised her to consider ; 
would nothing else please her ? Ho, nothing ; not if she 
considered a hundred years ! Then the child should be 
baptized^he following Sunday, Mr. Brentwell said ; and 
the subject was dropped. 

It was not his custom to baptize any one during the 
service, so when it was concluded on Sunday afternoon, 
Mrs. Brentwell entered with the sponsors and Horatio ; 
and a few friends, who were aware that the ceremony 


30 


DAISY BKEl^TWELL. 


was to take place, remained to witness it. They gath- 
ered around the font, and the clergyman began to read 
the solemn service. At the proper time he took his 
daughter in his arms. 

Name this child,’’ he said. 

Isabella Evangeline,” responded his wife in clear, 
distinct tones. 

Mr. Brentwell paused, looked at her for a moment, 
and at the child. Then, as if he had weighed the act 
well and was prepared to suffer the consequences, he 
said, as he placed the water upon the infant form — 
Deborah, I baptize thee,” etc. 

Mrs. Brentwell quickly opened her mouth to correct 
him, but one look at her husband’s determined face suf- 
ficed ; the mouth went shut without a word. At first 
she was astonished, then indignant, then she wanted to 
cry, but resolved on revenge. Her mind was so occu- 
pied with these thoughts that she heard little of the 
remaining service. When it was over she went imme- 
diately from the church, scarcely replying to any one 
who addressed her, walking so swiftly that little Hora- 
tio who clung to her skirts, was kept on a smart trot. 

She sat down in the sitting-room to collect her 
thoughts and await her husband’s return, ’v^ich was 
not immediately ; and when he did enter at length, he 
went directly to his study. Thither she followed him, 
carrying her much abused child, and dragging Horatio 
along with her. Well, she was revenged, and by 
woman’s great weapon — tears. ^^She stooped to con- 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


31 


quer,” and conquer she did. At the end of a half an 
hour Mr. Brentwell regretted his course ; at the end of 
an hour he acknowledged his regret ; before two hours 
had passed he was on his knees before her, promising 
that the child should have any nick-name possible, dhat 
she should never be called Deborah once in her life. 
Mrs. Brentwell showing symptoms of recovery at this, he 
went on to say that if there should ever be any more 
children born to them she should name them, and that 
he would baptize them by that name. This entirely 
restored her ; and after some thought, she decided that 
Deborah could very well be nick-named Daisy ; and 
Daisy the child was called ever afterward. Mrs. Brent- 
well secretly repented of her course, and though she 
did not acknowledge it, she never in her life again so 
forgot her womanhood as to resort to hysterics. 

Two years later, when twins were born to them, they 
did not forget their compact. The babes were both 
girls; and it was some months before Mrs. Brentwell 
could decide upon their names. She would at times, 
desperately consult her husband, and refuse his counsel. 
But at length, she called them Christie and Lestie. 
Mr. Brentwell was secretly quite pleased at this choice ; 
for he liad feared that one would be Arabella, and the 
other Isabella. All hTewfield applauded her fine taste. 
The junior warden’s wife, who was at that time deliber- 
ating between two dyes for a new parlor carpet, came to 
consult her in consequence. 

In three years a second boy was born, and was imme- 


32 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


diately named Herbert by his mother. But four years 
after^wlien another son was given them, Mrs. Brentwell 
relented, and gave her husband permission to name him, 
but with the condition that the name would be neither 
Andrew, Ephraim, David, or any of those awful,” 
names. Mr. Brentwell, remembering that Lestie and 
Christie were not Isabella and Arabella, readily prom- 
ised, and named the child Paul after the Apostle, dedi- 
cating liim unto the Lord with prayers and tears ; dedi- 
cating him as he had done no other child. Ah ! good 
man, thy prayer shall be answered ; the Lord will accept 
thy gift, but not until thou and he have passed through 
a furnace of affliction, where he shall be purified, and 
thou shalt be taught the power of Him to Whom thou 
ofi:erest thy gift. 

At the period at which our story opens, Horatio was 
nearly twenty-one years of age. He was tall, slender, 
and handsome, with dark blue eyes and wavy light hair, 
which he wore, contrary to the prevailing fashion, 
brushed back of his ears. His easily dampened spirits 
were at present overcast by a cloud which threatened 
to be serious. He had been studying medicine with Dr. 
Doreann for the past year ; and with his friend and 
preceptor’s death, his brightest hopes sank. He had 
had free access to the old physician’s library, and had 
gladly availed himself of the privilege ; but now he 
was without means to pursue his studies, or to pur- 
chase books. He was ambitious, and while he studied 
hard and progressed with wonderful rapidity, he had 


DAISY BEEI^^TWELL. 


33 


dreamt dreams of future greatness ; he had built high 
castles in Spain. But he was rudely awakened from the 
dreams, and the castles lay in mocking ruins. 

Deborah, or always Daisy, the next in years to Ho- 
ratio, was small, slender, and very delicate, and the only 
brunette of the family. There were some persons in 
Newfield who thought her beautiful, while others con- 
sidered her the plainest looking girl in the village. It 
was not strange that they were so divided in their opin- 
ions ; for she was one of those few persons who are at 
times perfectly beautiful, and again, in the same gar- 
ment, and in another light, are really homely. Her 
eyes were deep-set, and dark rings of ill-health always 
encircled them ; her cheeks were thin and pale ; but her 
mouth was beautiful. 

Her disposition was as contradictory as her face. 
She was gentle, loving, and unselfish, enduring silently 
the pain that seemed to be wearing her life away ; but 
under that sweet smile and gentle manner there was a 
sleeping fire — she possessed a terrible temper. She 
feared its out-bursts, and vainly endeavored to overcome 
them. Bitterly would she repent of her passion, and 
form great resolutions of never yielding again ; but 
the resolutions were broken ; and sadder still, she 
would never acknowledge her fault — a false pride kept 
her from craving pardon from any one whom she might 
have injured. 

To these two the younger children looked up with 
the greatest affection. Daisy’s delicate health was 
2 * 


34 


DAISY BKE^ITWELL. 


always winning sympathy, while her nsiial gentleness 
won love. Horatio, strong and manly, commanded 
their respect while his despondent hours drew their 
hearts closely to him. 

The twins, Christie and Lestie, were of exactly oppo- 
site temperaments : Christie at sixteen was a Christian 
woman ; Lestie was a petulant, self-willed child. They 
were both taller than their older sister, with softly 
rounded figures and an abundance of light hair, which 
Christie coiled around her shapely head, and Lestie 
braided in long plaits, which reaching below her waist, 
were her chief pride. Christie was hopeful and cheerful, 
the comfort of her parents ; Lestie was lively abroad, 
and fault-finding and peevish at home, ready, and almost 
waiting for a quarrel with any one. Christie was the 
beauty not only of the family but of Newfield ; Lestie 
was not at all pretty, but wonderfully attractive in her 
manners, when she chose to be, and she did choose in 
the society of strangers. 

Herbert was like Christie in disposition, and resem- 
bled her greatly in feature. He was a good boy ; that 
is to say, he endeavored to be good. He had his down- 
falls and his uprisings, his sins and repentances. Every 
day he left undone what ought to have been done, and 
did what ought not to have been done. So it will easily 
be seen that he was no more like the model boy in the 
Sunday-school books, who lives a few years upon earth 
for an example to the rest of the world, who never does 
a wrong act, or leaves a good one undone, and who is 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


35 


guilty of no boyish sins whatever, than he was like the 
gentleman who is supposed to inhabit the moon. 

Paul was the youngest, and as we have said, had 
been named by his father after St. Paul and set apart 
by prayers to follow in that apostle’s footsteps. He was 
a handsome child of nine, far behind in his studies, and 
far advanced in all manner of mischief — the one wan- 
derer from the fold (St. Paul’s Eectory), the inevitable 
stray sheep. He was one of Sam Lukens’ most ardent 
followers, and strange to relate, to all appearances Sam’s 
favorite. Paul had never meant to sink to the level 
of that old man and his associates, but he was easily 
influenced, and had been led on by the older boys ; 
and his reception at the den had really been so flat- 
tering that it had not been forgotten by any who wit- 
' nessed it. 

The introduction had occurred about a year before 
the time of which we write. The boys ushered him in 
with the most approved boy-fashion, calling out that 
here was a new fellow, Paul Brentwell. 

Paul who ? ” thundered Sam, who usually acknowl- 
edged such introductions by a grunt, or less, taking no 
more notice of the new-comer for some time. 

Paul Brentwell,” repeated the boys. 

“ What Brentwell ? ” 

The parson’s boy.” 

Sam scowled. Come here, you rat.” 

Paul obeyed tremblingly. Sam laid his dirty hand 
heavily on his shoulder. 


36 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


So you’re the parson’s boy ? ” he said. What 
do you come here for ? ” 

I don’t know,” stammered Paul, telling the truth 
in his fright. 

‘‘You don’t know, hey ? ” The old, sin-stained man 
looked at the fresh, youthful face before him, regard- 
ing it savagely, while the boys stood by and gazed in 
amazement. 

For one moment Sam’s better angel — a sad, dis- 
spirited, wasted creature, with torn and drooping wings 
that showed sad conflicts and many defeats — hovered 
near him. He opened his mouth to speak the words 
murmured in his ear, but they were not uttered ; a 
legion of evil spirits beat the angel away and breathed 
poison in Sam’s heart, and his mouth shut grimly. 

Fie smiled savagely the next moment, as he said : 
“ I’m glad to see you. I hope you’ll come often ; and 
I’ll teach you a- few tricks that I know.” 

Paul thanked him ! 

Sam’s conduct was the theme of the boys’ conversa- 
tion for weeks afterward, and Paul was quite a lion 
among them in consequence. Lukens true to his word, 
did teach him a few tricks — but, alas ! not so much 
sleight-of hand as of mouth ; for, after a few simple ones 
of the former, he was instructed in lying, smoking, and 
swearing ; stealing and drinking would come in due sea- 
son, time enough yet for them ; for he was young, and 
learned quickly. He soon swore a manly round oath 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


37 


with perfect ease ; and smoked a pipe with the assurance 
of a man of the world. 

In the course of time, it came to Mr. Brentwell’s ears 
that one of his sons — his Paul — was a frequent and 
favored visitor at Sam Lukens’ hut. But he did not 
know, unfortunately, to what an alarming extent Paul 
had progressed in wickedness under Sam’s tuition. There 
was a scene at the rectory that day. Paul was wept over 
by every member of the family ; caressed, prayed for, 
talked to, entreated, and finally threatened. The boy 
wej)t, promised reformation, and returned the caresses ; 
for he was an impulsive child, repenting truly of his sins, 
but often going astray when the good emotions ceased. 
He did not visit Sam again for one month. By that 
time, he had forgotten his promise, as well as the sorrow 
he had caused his parents ; and Sam had repeatedly sent 
messages to him to return. That was an unusual course 
for the old man to pursue, so Paul appreciated the con- 
descension, yielded to the entreaties of his forbidden 
associates, and resumed his former intimacy ; and there- 
after no home chastisements could avail. He persisted in 
his evil way, visiting the house surreptitiously whenever 
he had an opportunity — pursuing his education of vice. 

The rectory was built of stone, with a small wing on 
either side ; a wide, cool hall ran through the house, 
and four rooms opened out of it, two on either side. 
The first, on the right hand on entering, was the parlor. 
A large square room, furnished according to Hewfield 
fashion with a liome-made carpet on the floor, six stiff 


38 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


cane-bottomed chairs, a cane rocking-chair and a hair- 
cloth sofa, whose slippery propensities made it impossible 
for people to keep from landing on the floor when they 
rashly seated themselves upon it. There was a small 
black table between the two front windows, with curi- 
ously carved legs, which had the appearance of having 
once twisted themselves up to show the stifl furniture 
what they could do, and, having done too much, had 
spent the remainder of their years in trying to untwist, 
only growing more entangled with every effort. A num- 
ber of solemn books with solemn bindings were ranged 
around the corners of this table in fantastical style — 
altogether out of keeping with their solemnity — and 
piled in pyramids in the centre. These books were the 
light reading of the family. The children had been 
brought up upon them, and knew most of them by 
heart. Among them were Young’s Night Thoughts, 
Poems by Cowper, and Henry Kirke White, Milton’s 
Poetical Works, Groldsmith’s Works, and some of Sir 
Walter Scott’s novels — these last for the sake of the 
history they contained. 

A high, painted mantle-piece was over the flre-place, 
directly opposite to the table. Two orderly rows of half- 
open daguerrotypes extended from one end to the other, 
temptingly disclosing views of stiff women in ponderous 
bonnets and with smooth hair combed down over the 
face, stiff men in collars that came up to the chin, and 
stiff spread-out hands and staring eyes — all wearing a 
terribly conscious picture look. These'stiff folks were 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


39 


the relations far and near of Mr. and Mrs. Brentwell — 
their aunts, uncles, cousins, old and young ; and there 
were even some babies among them. The children had 
never seen the originals of these portraits, but they knew 
their names and histories quite as well as they did the 
-books on the table. Over the mantle hung a picture of 
a lady in black weeping violently by an enormous green 
grave which had a correspondingly enormous head-stone. 
The afflicted lady held an immense handkerchief — a 
small-sized sheet in the picture — to her eyes, and Mar- 
tha L. Brentwell ’’ was printed across it. Upon the stone 
was her mother’s name, and the date of her decease : the 
whole affair representing the grief which Mrs. Brentwell 
was supposed to feel at the loss. A few prints, in dark 
wood frames, hung round the walls, and completed the 
furniture of the room. One wing opened out of the 
parlor, and was used as a guest-chamber. Back of the 
parlor was Mr. Brentwell’s study, and the second door on 
the right-hand side of the hall entered into it. 

Directly opposite to the parlor was the family-sit- 
ting-room. No stiffness had ever characterized this 
place : in the depth of the winter, the cold kitchen was 
deserted, and all the cooking, baking and eating were 
done in this room ; thereby saving an extra fire, and 
keeping much more comfortable. There were no pic- 
tures or stiff daguerrotypes here ; a few wreaths of ever- 
greens hung around the wall, giving a cheerful appear- 
ance to the room. There was a bright cushioned settee 
in one corner, and three small rocking-chairs in front of 


40 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


the hre-place. The chairs were the inevitable straight- 
hack Windsor ; but they never looked solemn, their dig- 
nity had been taken out of them years before, when child- 
ish hands had constructed stage-coaches out of them, 
and turned them into church pews. Horatio (when they 
were pews) would envelop himself in a sheet, and take his 
stand upon the settee, while the children would be seated 
upon the chairs, which were always ranged in single 
file ; as the architects had an eye more to the length 
than the breadth of their church. Daisy, being the 
eldest, occupied the front seat ; Lestie and Christie took 
turns in sitting in the next. Then came Herbert, 
Paul, and finally Mrs. Brentwell with her sewing, seated 
there for the double purpose of swelling the numbers 
and keeping Paul in his seat. Horatio summed up all 
in his sermon of one sentence, that is preached in the 
length and breadth of the land — Be good,” he would 
say. Daisy, be good. Lestie and Christie, be good. 
Herbert, be good. Paul, be good. Children, be good.” 
A busy little clock ticked on the mantel-piece ; a small 
table stood between the two front windows — one of 
those convenient tables which are always so well filled. 
No matter how many times in a day it was arranged, 
and the surplus removed, five minutes afterward there 
were Paul’s cap, Herbert’s ball, Horatio’s books, Daisy’s 
sewing, Christie’s knitting, Mr. Brentwell’s newspaper, 
Mrs. Brentwell’s glasses, and numerous other articles, 
upon it. Last year’s Almanac, for reference, this year’s, 
for reading, a Bible and Prayer Book, a pamphlet or 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


41 


two, and Mrs. Brentwell’s work-basket, alone belonged 
there ; but they rarely had undisputed possession. 
Opposite this table was the door communicating with 
the kitchen, and the one opposite the hall door led into 
Mrs. BrentwelFs sleeping appartment, which was the 
second wing. There were four large rooms on the 
second floor ; and they were the children’s sleeping- 
rooms. Daisy occupied the one over the sitting-room. 
Horatio’s adjoined it. The younger boys slept over the 
parlor, and Leslie and Christie over the study. 

The church property amounted to almost three acres 
of ground. A large grave-yard surrounded the church, 
and was divided from the rectory garden by a picket- 
fence, in which there were two gates and three stiles for 
the convenience of the rector and his family ; thereby 
leaving no excuse for their non-attendance at church on 
the ground that the fence was a barrier. The garden in 
front of the house was cut up into flower-beds of every 
imaginable size and shape. The large diamond in the 
centre of the yard belonged jointly to Leslie and Christie, 
who were never known to have anything apart. Daisy’s 
plot was situated on the side toward the church, and 
resembled a great pie cut for Christmas dinner ; for it 
was immense and round, and the paths which divided it 
all started from equal points, and met in the middle : 
one naturally wondered what immense knife cut the pie. 

Horatio, Herbert, and Paul cultivated the north side. 
The eldest sons showed great taste, and it was from their 
patches the choicest roses, the sweetest pinks, and most 


42 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


delicate lilies came. But Paul’s was a different affair 
altogether. Eoses and lilies never bloomed there ; no 
pinks sent forth their fragrant breath from the little 
bed down by the fence. There, tall sunflowers reared 
their lordly heads, and followed the course of their king 
through the long, hot summer’s day ; marigolds vied 
with them in yellowness ; hollyhocks emulated them in 
height ; bleeding heart and coxcomb illuminated the 
spot, and a few peonies and tulips bloomed there in the 
spring — and that was all that it contained. Paul had 
really thought seriously, one year, of planting lady’s-slip- 
per, but had decided that there was not enough style in 
them, and abandoned the idea. This patch was a 
source of great vexation to the older children. Herbert 
would threaten to board it up so that not a . vestige of 
even the tallest sunflower could be seen ; and Lestie’s 
threats of pulling them up by the roots made their ar- 
dent admirer toe the mark for her on all such occasions. 
The fact of the bed being down by the fence made it 
a great deal worse, for it was so much more plainly seen. 
Lestie declared that they were visible a half a mile away. 

Sunflowers and hollyhocks in the minister’s garden ! 
Mother Wade said it was awful.” Miss Crissy Wells 
never went by without shutting her eyes — and walking 
into the gutter. As our story opens in the month of 
March, there were no flowers in bloom in any portion of 
the garden ; but endless bundles of seeds adorned the 
shelves of the various closets up stairs. Paul’s immense 
packages of private seeds were under lock and key, and 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


43 


the key was hung around his neck with a white string, 
and sleeping or waking there it reposed. 

The front of the house was almost entirely covered 
with woodbine, which twined over the little porch, mak- 
ing it in summer a beautiful green arbor. It was a 
cozy, homelike little rectory ; and one of the happiest 
families in Newfield dwelt therein. 


CHAPTER lY. 


** Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb ; 

Take this new treasure to thy trust 
And give these sacred relics room 
To slumber in the silent dust. 

“Nor pain, nor grief, nor anxious fear, 

Invade thy bounds ; no mortal woes 
Can reach the peaceful sleeper here 
While angels watch the soft repose.” 

—Dr. Watts. 

I T was the day of Dr. Doreann’s funeral. The sun 
was throwing genial rays upon the rectory, and melt- 
ing great quantities of the snow heaped in the garden 
and on the roof. Drop, drop, it came through the long 
tin pipe into the tub at the bottom. The tub was 
almost full : Mrs. Brentwell had gone to the door twice 
to see this with her own eyes, and congratulated herself 
several times that she would not have to melt snow for 
the next washing, as she had done since the cistern froze 
in January. Paul hleked his good fortune, too, remem- 
bering who had carried the snow in — with a little assist- 
ance from Herbert ; and Mr. Brentw^ell rejoiced that he 
had attended to having the pipe mended last week, or 
all the water would have been wasted. 

The funeral was appointed to meet in the house at 
one o’clock in the afternoon, and in the church at two. 
There had been an early dinner at the rectory in conse- 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


45 


qnence, and now all were busy, preparing to go. Mr. 
Brentwell, to save an extra fire, studied and wrote in 
the sitting-room ; and by dint of long practice had ac- 
quired that perfection in writing in a noisy roomful, so 
that he did not put down more than half the conver- 
sation in his sermon. His congregation was sometimes 
electrified by the propositions that he set forth ; but 
another fire could not be afforded, and he had already 
caught a severe cold by sitting in the study without one. 
To be sure, he had worn three cloaks, but they were 
more trouble than profit ; for they were continually 
slipping off, and required much of his time to hold 
them on. 

He was seated this afternoon by the sitting-room table, 
looking over and correcting his sermon ; he always 
preached a short one at funerals. Mrs. Brentwell sat in 
a chair before the fire, slowly rocking to and fro, as she 
mended one of Herbert’s gloves. She had a sweet face, 
where care and toil had counterfeited time, as they 
stamped upon her features and bleached her hair snowy 
white. There is one word in the English language that 
will describe her completely, that one sweet word the 
children called her by a hundred times a day — Mother.” 
She was one of those few women whose memory will 
shield a child in the greatest temptation. It is the 
mother, rarely the father, who moulds the hearts of 
children : Mrs. Brentwell had with gentle hands 
moulded the hearts of her children into love : the kind 
admonitions and loving advice that had come from that 


46 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


chair by the fire-place might have filled volumes, and 
the world would have been better for having read them. 

Lestie sat upon the fioor, lacing up her best shoes. 
Christie knelt behind her, braiding her long glossy hair 
into shining plaits — Lestie rarely did it for herself. Her- 
bert was vigorously blacking his boots by the kitchen 
door ; and Paul was combing his hair before the mirror 
which hung over the table, to his father’s great annoy- 
ance. Horatio and Daisy, who had performed their toi- 
lets in the privacy of their cold chambers, had done it 
as quickly as possible, and were now seated in the warm 
family room. 

‘‘ My heart never ached for any one as it does for 
Miss Nettie,” Mrs. Brentwell was saying, as she wiped 
her eyes with Herbert’s glove for the fifth time since 
the mending began. 

^^Dear me ! I .v^ish I had some one to black my 
boots,” said Paul, turning away from the mirror, satis- 
fied that his hair was well plastered on all sides. 

‘‘ Oh, Paul ! how you look with your hair that 
way ! ” cried Lestie. 

My hair’s all right : it takes the shine all off of 
yours, any how. ” 

I think of Horatio, when I see her grief,” Daisy 
said, in reply to her mother’s remark. 

Why of me ?” 

Because we would feel so dreadful if you were dead.” 

"'Nonsense,” Horatio affectionately said. 

" Dear Daisy, don’t talk that way,” said Christie, 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


47 


beginning to cry, while tears dropped upon Herbert’s 
shining boots. 

Mrs. Brentwell’s voice was entirely gon^ and Lestie 
and Paul were seen to wipe their eyes, when Mr. Brent- 
well, leaning back in his chair, burst into a hearty laugh. 

. The weeping family looked up in astonishment. A 
wild fear assailed Mrs. Brentwell, that her husband was 
losing his mind. 

What’s the joke ?” called out Paul. 

This don’t pay,” returned the clergyman. 

‘^Why, George,” said Mrs. Brentwell anxiously, 
what is it ? ” 

‘^This sermon is the most confused thing I ever 
wrote. I have the gist of about everything you said 
last night in it. Bead it, Horatio.” 

And as Horatio read, the tears of the family were 
changed into laughter ; for it was a ludicrous mixture 
of home talk and sermonizing. 

I am very sorry,” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

‘‘ I’ll never speak another word while father writes 
his sermons,” said Christie. 

“ What will you preach to-day ? ” Daisy asked. - 

“ What is left of this.” 

“ Oh, don’t I” cried Paul. “I’ll split, if you do.” 
The church bell began to toll in its highest key. 
“ Ding-dong, ding-dong,” squeaked Paul, at the top of 
his voice. 

“ Is that becoming, my dear ? ” asked his mother. 
He could not say that it was, and would not say that it 


48 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


was not. So he replied by enlisting her sympathies in 
his behalf. 

My gloves are torn, too,” he said. 

Kun, Herbert,” Mr. Brentwell said, and get my 
surplice from the church ; and if you are ready to go, 
you can carry it for me.” 

You are covered with ashes, Paul,” said Daisy ; 
what have you been doing ? ” 

I only blew a little into the cat’s eyes.” Daisy 
brushed and turned the restless liftle body. Hurry 
up, there ; that kitten’s got my cap. Let me go.” 

Mrs. Brentwell’s bonnet was tied on tight, and 
straightened by every one of her daughters, and her 
shawl drawn over her shoulders in forty wrinkles. 

Paul started olf on a trot ; Mr. Brentwell went down 
the* street thinking of his sermon ; Daisy and Horatio 
walked slowly on together. Mrs. Brentwell and the twin 
sisters were the last to leave the house. As they walked 
down the street she improved the occasion by talking 
in a gentle way of the uncertainty of life, illustrating 
her discourse by the sudden end of Dr. Doreann. They 
came up with Horatio and Daisy at the door, and en- 
tered the parlor with them. Paul, seated alone upon 
the edge of the sofa, was the prominent figure in the 
room. His hair was plastered down closer than ever ; 
and the expression of his face was a combination of awe, 
solemnity and importance ; he appeared to feel that he 
was the funeral. He had been telling a boy outside that 


DAISY BRE^^TWELL. 


49 


his father was going to preach the bullies t kind of a 
sermon ; it would make ’em all laugh.” 

Daisy almost laughed in his face, and in the face of 
all the assembled company, when she saw his unusual 
gravity, and his cat-in-a-strange-garret appearance. And 
she seated herself beside- him, that he might not figure 
in such painfully bold relief to the next arrival. 

Every body is coming,” he said, in a boy whisper ; 
Tom Borne says his father is.” 

Don’t talk so loud,” said Daisy softly. 

I ain’t talking loud ; I’m whispering.” 

I didn’t know it.” 

Lestie, who was seated near, leaned over. Mother 
has got her bonnet all crooked again,” she said. 

So she has. Do tell Christie — oh, you can’t make 
her hear.” 

^^Ican,” said Paul, obligingly; and, putting his 
hand on the side of his mouth, he whispered a short — 
Christie.” 

Every head turned. There was a solemn silence. 
Solemn old eyes looked upon the young scapegrace 
with horror. But he saw it not ; he was too intent upon 
being obliging. 

The girls — ” he continued. 

*• Do hush,” interrupted the girls.” 

Horatio left his seat and came to them. 

If you don’t know how to behave yourself,” he said 
to Paul, you may go home.” 

I won’t do it for you,” returned Paul, almost out 
3 


50 


DAISY BREIITWELL. 


loud ; then, louder — The girls wanted me to tell Chris- 
tie that mother’s bonnet is crooked ; it’s knocked all to 
the side of her head.” 

The solemn eyes came heavily down upon Mrs. Brent- 
well’s bonnet. The poor lady put her hand helplessly 
to it, and Christie, who sat next to her, straightened it, 
and tied the strings once more — tighter this time. 

Mr. Brentwell now came in, vested in his robes, and 
took his stand in the door between the office and par- 
lor ; and Paul assumed his funeral air again — this time 
to the great relief of the anxious family. 

The service at the house consisted simply of the 
Twenty-third Psalm, a few collects and a hy&in. When 
that was over, the neighbors filed into the sitting-room, 
where the body was upon exhibition. Very few had 
gathered at the house, for, knowing that it was only a 
small place, they anticipated a crowd. But the usual 
village corpse-viewers were there. The village corpse- 
viewe^-S ” are persons whom we all have met. Tliey 
make it a part of their life-work to attend every funeral 
that is held in the place ; and, being zealous in their 
work, they begin with viewing the body as soon as it 
is laid out, view it again at the funeral in the house, and 
finally join the single file procession around the coffin 
in the church. 

There was a small procession from the house to the 
church. Mr. Brentwell walked at the head in his robes. 
He was not thinking at all — wicked man ! — of the sud- 
denness of death, and all the solemn things he should 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


51 


have been meditating upon at such a time. No, indeed ; 
he was thinking of the low state of the wood-pile, and 
of how badly his wife needed a new shawl, and of the 
various darns in his own best coat. To be sure, it 
did occur to him that Dr. Doreann was dead, but, at 
the same time, he remembered that the doctor had gone 
where the wood-piles never gi’ew low, and where there 
were no shabby shawls or darned coats to contend with. 
A little distance behind, Mrs. Brentwell, forgetful of 
the diminishing wood-pile, ignorant of the shabbiness 
of her shawl, and confident in the efficacy of the darns 
in her husband’s coat, walked between Herbert and Paul, 
and devoted her time and thoughts solely to keeping 
them quiet. Lestie and Christie came next and then 
Daisy and Horatio. The family party separated at the 
church door : Horatio, Christie and Lestie went into 
the choir, where the former played the organ, and the 
two latter sang ; Mrs. Brentwell, with the others, went 
to their own pew. 

The church was crowded to overflowing ; the whole 
village was pressed into it. The young and the old, the 
scoffing and the earnest, the rich and the poor, were 
there as mourners. There was scarcely a dry eye in the 
whole assembly when the coffin containing the body of 
their universal friend was carried in, and placed before 
the railing. Two old ladies robed in black tottered in 
after it — his only living relative, and she who should 
have been yet nearer to him than that beloved sister. 
The large portion of Newfield which was gathered in St. 


52 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Paul’s forgot — really forgot — their tears in wondering 
who Miss Nettie’s companion was. Curiosity, after all, 
is the leading trait in human nature. Miss Nettie and 
her unknown friend sat alone in the mourners’ pew, 
listening tearlessly to the sobs which burst forth from 
the congregation. 

The beautiful service proceeded. The outer doors 
had been closed, and several solemn-minded pillars of 
the church, who had not been able to obtain seats, were 
leaning peacefully against them when they were sud- 
denly pushed open, throwing the solemn pillars into 
each other’s arms, and an old man walked in — Sam Lu- 
kens. He paid no attention to the confusion that 
his entrance caused, but hobbled up the aisle to the 
coffin, seeing nothing hut the long casket that contained 
the body of his only friend. 

The congregation stared and wondered. The un- 
dertaker and surviving warden simultaneously rose to 
eject him as he stood fingering the lid of the coffin, 
evidently trying to unscrew it. Miss Nettie, equally 
forgetful that the eyes of the crowded church were upon 
her, leaned over the front of the pew, and touched his 
dirty sleeve with her old white hand. He turned ; the 
scowl, with which he would have greeted another, faded 
away, and he looked almost kindly on her haggard face. 
She whispered softly to him, and, seemingly in compli- 
ance with her request, he entered the pew, and sat down 
beside her. And they— those three — sat side by side. 
Was there ever a stranger group ? 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


53 


Sam Lukens in churcli ! The warden and under- 
taker sank back into their seats, without removing their 
eyes from him. And the warden wiped his glasses three 
or four times before he discovered that they were not 
the true offenders, and that his eyes were growing misty. 
Mr. Brentwell was really alarmed, when he considered 
the great responsibility of preaching before Sam Lukens, 
and bethought him of several sermons, now at home, 
which would have produced a much more powerful 
effect upon the hardened sinner. But Mr. Brentwell 
might have quieted his alarms ; Sam would not have 
heard the blast of the Angel Grabriers trumpet, if it had 
been sounded in his ears at that moment. The boys, 
occupying the front pews of the gallery, looked on in the 
deepest concern. What if the old creature should see 
them, and recognize them before their parents ? Paul, 
who sat just behind him, shook in his shoes, and made 
up his wavering mind that he would never go near the 
horrid Jiut again ; he’d see it hanged first ! But noth- 
ing was further from Sam’s mind that greeting his 
young disciples ; he did not see them. 

When the service was concluded, the undertaker 
stepped up to the coffin, and proceeded, in accordance 
with the established but mistaken custom still in vogue, 
to unscrew the lid, that the assembled people should take 
their last look at the corpse. And Mr. Brentwell gave 
directions which aisle they should walk up, and which 
one they should walk down. Miss Nettie shuddered as 
the curious villagers pressed eagerly forward, and jostled 


54 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


one another in their haste to see her dead brother’s face. 
As the last one was stepping reluctantly away, Sam 
went forward, and gazed for one moment on the calm 
face, that seemed to reflect some of the peace into which 
the soul had entered. The old man turned, and walked 
slowly out of the church, with the same stony look. 
There was a crowd at the door, but it quickly parted for 
him to pass through. 

That afternoon a few boys — who had not been at the 
funeral — knocked in vain at the door of his hut. Sam 
was not receiving calls that afternoon ; nor did he have 
open house again for a week or more. 


CHAPTER V. 


“ Like the worthy of Uz, Heaven prosper’d his piety. 

The leader of every religious society. 

Christian knowledge he labored through life to promote 
With personal profit, and knew how to quote 
Both the stocks and the Scripture with equal advantage 
To himself and admiring friends in this Cant— age.” 

— OwsN Meredith. 

T he funeral was over. Mrs. Brenfcwell and lier 
daughters had just entered the house, when Paul 
burst in, and announced that liis father wanted them 
immediately. 

‘‘ What does he want with us ? ” Lestie asked 
crossly. 

We’re all to go to Dr. Doreann’s right off ; and 
you must hurry ; they’re waiting outside.” 

Daisy looking out of the window, saw Herbert and 
Horatio each sitting upon a stile. ^^Eather is not 
here,” she said. He’s gone with Miss l^ettie.” 

I don’t know why we are going,” said Mrs. Brent- 
well, wonderingly. 

don’t want to go. Pm sure,” said Lestie, pettishly. 
We’ll just sit round that dull old room, and look sol- 
emn. And Paul will act as he did at the funeral. I 
naver was so ashamed in my life as I was then. Every 
body looked at us.” 

^‘Well, you said mother’s bonnet was on crooked. 


56 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


and yon wanted Christie to know it. So I told her. I 
thought you were in earnest. How was I to know you 
were fibbing ? ” 

‘‘There, there, dears, don’t say any more. You 
meant for the best, my son; only it wasn’t right to 
talk aloud at such an occasion. Don’t do it again, dear.” 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Why are we going to Dr. Doreann’s ?”Mrs. Brent- 
well inquired of her sons, when they joined them in 
the yard. 

“ The doctor’s will is to be read,” said Horatio ; “ and 
father said that we must be present.” About twenty 
persons were assembled in the little parlor when they 
entered. Miss Nettie was seated by one of the windows, 
talking in low tones to the stranger, who had been her 
companion in the church. Mother Wade, who was still 
conductor of ceremonies, hastened to meet the party 
from the rectory, and provided them with seats. Then 
she seated herself on the sofa by Mrs. Brentwell. 

“ I never did hear such a power of a sermon,” she 
said, in doleful tones, holding a cotton handkerchief to 
her eyes, “as the elder preached^ to-day. It went right 
to the bottom of my heart ; and I looked over to Orissy 
Wells an’ Mis’ March to see them swaller it down — they 
needed it, I know. I wanted to give the elder a poke, 
to hammer it down harder on ’em. An’ I felt like 
clappin’ my hands, an’ sayin’— ‘You hear that, oter 
there ? ’ when he says, says he, ‘ Them talkers is the ones 
that’ll have to look at that latter day, them long-tongued 


DAISY BREITTWELL. 


57 


critters what are alwa’s hayin’ something to say agin 
their neighbors ! An’ Mis’ March was lookin’ over to 
me, and noddin’ her head ; but I thought it was no time 
to recognize folks ; she’d better be enlistening to the ser- 
mon ; so I jest looked away, and felt like pokin’ the elder 
agin. There ain’t nothing goin’ that Mis’ March don’t 
have up, and tell all over town. T’other day I heerd 
she was talkin’ about my Tom, and sayin’ that he was 
the worst young feller in Newfield, all the while she 
knows she’s lyin’. Oh, I’d scorn to tell how I’ve seen 
her Phil reeling home.” 

Oh, my ! ” gasped Mrs. Brentwell ; I hope that 
is not true.” 

hTo ; I don’t tell no one ; I scorn it : I’m above 
talkin’ agin my neighbors. If I ever let anything drop, 
kind o’ unawares, you know, folks knows that it is true 
as gospel. There’s Mis’ Moore now, what lives next 
door to me, there ain’t a soul as knows when she’s fibbin’ 
and when she ain’t. I was sayin’ to Jane this morning 
that I’d come down and ask the elder to preach agin 
lying, an’ take that ’ere text in Scripture — ‘ The liar 
sha’n’t have no portion,’ an’ you’d see if it wouldn’t make 
a few o’ the liars in Newfield think of their latter end. 
There’s Mis’ March now, she’s always talkin’ o’ her por- 
tion ; I’d like her to find out that she won’t git none, if 
she don’t mend her ways. I think it would do her 
good ; and I feel as if I could’t do enough good for my 
feller-bein’s. I don’t suppose the elder knows anything 
about the wickedness of this ’ere world — dear, innocent 


68 


DAISY BREi^^TWELL. 


man. As I was tellin* Jane this morning, there ain’t no 
one like the parson for bein’ innocent ; you could just 
cheat him out o’ his shirt, and he’d give you his flannels 
right along with it.” 

Dear me, no ! he would catch cold.” 

Jest what I telled my Jane. ‘ Jane ! ’ I says, says I, 
‘ I jest feel sometimes as if Mis’ Brentwell had an awful 
responsibility in takin’ care o’ that man.” 

He takes care of me,” interposed the wife. 

‘^How the doctor’s gone” (wiping her eyes vigor- 
ously), ‘‘I don’t see what’ll become o’ nobody. Poor 
man” (with a deep sigh), his day had come. We must 
all be prepared when our time comes. I was sayin’ to 
Jane this morning, ^Jane,’ says I, ‘now the doctor’s 
gone, there ain’t no knowin’ who’ll go next ; I don’t 
feel safe a minute.’ But Jane ain’t no professor, an’ 
she don’t think on solemn things, like as I ; so she says, 
says she, ‘Law, marm, I ain’t afeard.’ ” 

Mr. Brentwell now entered the parlor, accompanied 
by the lawyer. Mr. Calfort was a Baptist deacon of 
high standing, and the main counsellor of the village. 
He was strong in his opinions, and had Arm faith in two 
things : himself and the Baptist doctrines ; and he was 
the man, among the Baptists in Newfleld ; he selected 
the minister, called him, and Anally sent him away. So 
it was on his right side that the divines endeavored to 
remain during their usually short sojourn in the place. 
He was a small, nervous man, with quick, energetic mo- 
tions, and spoke in a high, irritating, dictatorial key. 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


59 


He liad fallen into tlie queer liabit of rubbing tbe back 
of bis bead when be was excited, and bad rubbed tbe 
bair off, leaving two rows of short bairs just back of bis 
ears, wbicb bad tbe appearance of whiskers behind ; and, 
considering that be wore none in front, they were quite 
an item in his make-up. He was dressed in a brown 
frock coat, flowered vest, and loose,, greenish pantaloons. 
He wore an enormous neck-clotb of muslin ; and bis 
collar, on account of not being too low, bad a disagreea- 
ble way scraping bis chin, wbicb had gotten him into 
tbe habit of shaking bis bead backward every two min- 
utes or less, by bis own large silver watch. 

Horatio arose as they entered, gave bis chair to bis 
father, and leaned up against tbe mantel-piece in an 
unconsciously graceful attitude, to tbe admiration of 
Daisy ; and Horatio was at that age when be would 
rather be admired by her than by any one else’s sister. 

Mr. Calfort stationed himself between tbe two front 
windows, and rapped upon the little table beside him to 
enforce perfect quiet in tbe already silent room. As tbe 
knock effected no visible change, be stamped upon the 
floor with one of bis delicately gaitered feet, cleared bis 
throat, and threw bis bead back. This bad tbe desired 
effect ; it caused. Paul to whisper impatiently to Christie, 
who sat next to him. Why don’t he begin ? ” 

Silence, young man ! ” cried Mr. Calfort, in bis 
most terrible tone, knocking again on tbe table. 

Silence ! ” 

Mr. Brentwell’s eyes snapped in true fatherly wrath. 


60 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


and he opened his mouth, hut, being a prudent man, he 
shut it again, before a sound escaped. 

Mr. Oalfort, with a satisfied air, how unrolled the 
parchment he held in his hand, and, giving his head a 
final throw, began the reading of Dr. Doreann^s will. 
The doctor bequeathed to his successor in the practice, 
whoever he might be, his horse and gig, and all things 
pertaining to them ; to Sam Lukens he gave his large 
Bible and Prayer Book, and to his friend the Kev. 
George D. Brentwell, the sum of one hundred dollars. 
All that remained was left to Miss Nettie, for life, and 
at her death, the house and lot were to be sold, and, to- 
gether with the money already at interest, to be placed 
in a reliable bank, where the interest should be drawn 
semi-annually, ^nd be paid to the Kector of St. Paul’s, 
in addition to his salary. 

Mr. Oalfort laid the will down in solemn silence, 
knocking on the table to intimate that he desired the 
present quiet of the room to continue. He looked 
gravely over his glasses at Paul, who sat on the same 
chair with Herbert, at the extreme end of the room, 
with open mouth and staring eyes. The boy had for- 
gotten his late mortification in the astonishment the 
legacy left to his father caused; and the small sum 
seemed a vast fortune to him. 

Mr. Oalfort stamped one foot again, jerked back his 
head, and unrolled another piece of parchment. He 
paused to blow his nose in a white silk handkerchief, 
and to wipe his eyes. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


61 


1 will now read a short codicil,” he said, when all 
this was properly done. 

The codicil was merely to bequeath to Mrs. Millie 
S. Lorraine a little black mahogany box, the key of 
which was in his wallet. 

The stranger, who sat by Miss ^iTettie, turned 
quickly, and seemed surprised at this ; and then the 
assembly knew that she was Mrs. Lorraine ; but they 
were but little wiser than before ; for no one knew who 
Mrs. Lorraine ” was. 

There was a moment of silence, then every tongue 
broke loose and Mr. Calfort knew that his reign was 
over: he felt that the sceptre had departed ; but, mak- 
ing the best of matters, he strutted over to a gentleman 
who was standing by the office door — a Mr. James Lute — 
and began a conversation with him, talking in his usual 
shrill tones, while Mr. Lute replied from the very depths 
of his deep bass lungs. 

A meek looking man in shabby black approached 
Mr. Brentwell. 

Allow me to congratulate you, sir,” he said, hold- 
ing out his thin white hand, while a sickly smile spread 
over his starved looking face and then faded quickly away. 

Thank you, Mr. Borne. It was a very acceptable 
donation. ” 

So I judged, sir; so I judged.” (Another sickly 
smile.) Great man,” he continued, in a low tone, in- 
dicating Mr. Calfort by a motion of his bony finger. 
A great man ; a fine lawyer.” 

6 -^ 


62 


DAISY BKEI^TWELL. 


Y-e-es,” said Mr. Brentwell, doubtfully. 

He wrote that will, and it was a splendidly gotten 
up thing,” Mr. Borne went on enthusiastically ; ^‘’twas 
a most touching composition.” 

It touched me,” replied Mr. Brentwell smiling, re- 
gardless of the solemnity of the occasion. 

Mr. Borne sighed heavily, then suddenly recollect- 
ing himself he essayed another feeble smile. 

This gentleman was the Eev. Mr. Borne, the Baptist 
clergyman, and consequently was in great anxiety at all 
times to stand well in Mr. Calfort’s favor, which was not 
always easy to do. And the lawyer was already deter- 
mining in his own mind what measures he should pur- 
sue to send him away, and had decided to propose at the 
next ^^church-meeting,” that the liberal salary of six hun- 
dred a year, which Mr. Borne was now starving upon, 
should be reduced to four hundred dollars. Mr. Borne 
had an inkling that a storm was bremng, and was doing 
his poor best to conciliate this great man. 

‘‘I hope Mrs. Calfort is well,” was Mr. Borne’s anx- 
ious greeting, grasping the lawyer’s hand as he came 
to them. 

She is, I thank you,” returned Mr. Calfort with 
great pomposity. 

And all the children, the dear lambs ?” 

My family are all well, I thank you,” squeaked 
Mr. Calfort, in awful tones. Mr. Borne trembled and 
was silent. 

^^Mr. Brentwell,” said Mr. Calfort, addressing that 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


63 


gentleman with the air of one who has a momentous 
question to propound, ^‘Mr. Brentwell, I believe that 
Mr. Lincoln, the Presbyterian minister, and our own 
pastor, Mr. Borne, were both at the funeral of our 
lamented friend and physician.” 

I believe they were.” 

May I be permitted to ask why they were not 
invited into your pulpit ? ” 

I hope Mr. Borne will not be offended if I tell the 
reason plainly.” 

Oh, no, sir,” said that gentleman. 

No ; Mr. Borne will not be offended,” said Mr. Cal- 
fort determinedly, as if he had said, I shall not allow 
Mr. Borne to be offended.” 

Then, sir, I did not invite Mr. Borne and Mr. 
Lincoln into the chancel because they have never received 
what our church considers a valid ordination.” 

Sir ! ” said the great, but astonished man ; sir, do 
I hear aright, or do my ears deceive me ? ” 

Mr. Lute, who was a vestry-man of St. Paul’s, was 
guilty of a quiet smile. 

^^Mr. Calfort,” said Mr. Brentwell, allow me to 
explain to you at some future time.” 

want no explanation,” returned Mr. Calfort 
excitedly, beginning to rub the bald spot : I wish 
to hear no more on the subject ; never again, sir. Mr. 
Borne, what do you say of this ? ” 

I have heard it before,” said Mr. Borne evasively. 

Then why was I not informed of it ? Have things 


64 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


come to this pass and I not told of it ? What am I to 
think of it ? ” 

“ Softly,” said Mr. Lute, placing his large hand on 
the little man’s shoulder ; ‘‘no one is to blame that you 
have kept yourself in ignorance.” 

“ If that is ignorance, then in ignorance I shall 
remain ; for I will hear no more of it.” 

Mr. Brentwell, wishing the gentlemen a “ good after- 
noon,” separated himself from the group, leaving Mr. 
Borne to congratulate Mr. Calfort on the fine compo- 
sition of the will, and to inquire for the tenth time 
after Mrs. Calfort and the dear lambs. 

Mrs. Brentwell was gathering up her children to 
depart. The room had been cold, and Daisy was shiv- 
ering. 

“ Don’t he gettin’ sick, when we hain’t no doctor,” 
Mrs. Wade said to her. “I was sayin’ to Jane this 
morning, ‘Jane,’ says I, ‘jist like enough Daisy’ll'be 
took with a spell o’ lungs, now the poor dear doctor is 
dead.’ ‘Marm,’ says she, ‘I’m afeard she will.’ My 
sakes ! what would wo do ? Mis’ Brentwell, you can’t 
take too good care of her ; for she’s a poor, weak critter, 
at the best, and likely to blow away and die at any wind. 
Jest look out for them lung spells. I was sayin’ to 
Jane this morning, ‘Jane,’ says I, ‘I’m just surprised 
all the time to think that Daisy Brentwell is alive yet. 
Every time fall comes,’ says I, ‘ I’m a thinkin’ it’ll be 
her last.’ ‘ Marm,’ says Jane, says she, ‘ I think so, too.’ 
Death ain’t nothin’ if you’re only prepared when the 


DAISY BREiq’TWELL. 


65 


summons comes. If you’re prepared to die you can’t go 
too soon. What’s ’arth for ? It’s a sorrowin’ vale for 
poor mortals to prepare in ; that’s all. Keep your latter 
end in view, an’ you’re all right. Here I am preachin’ 
to you. I w^as tollin’ Jane this morning that I was cut 
out for a parson. ^ Harm,’ says she, ^ I believe you was.’ 
Take care o’ them spells now.” 

What does that old woman mean by talking that 
way ? ” Horatio said indignantly, when they were out- 
side of the door. ‘^It’s enough to kill Daisy to hear 
her.” 

She meant well,” returned the mother, smothering 
the sigh that came from her heart. 

If she talks any more about Daisy’s dying,” said 
Paul savagely, “I’ll upset her.” 


CHAPTER VL 


“ Oh ! poverty is a weary thing : 

*Tis full of grief and pain ; 

It beareth down the heart of man, 

And dulls his cunning brain.” 

— Mabt Howitt. 

‘‘Ask, and it shall be given you.” 

I T was twilight at the rectory. The supper table was 
laid in the sitting-room, with snowy cloth and nap- 
kins, glittering white dishes and a little plain glassware. 
The only silver upon it was a few spoons : one of Mrs. 
Brentwell’s wedding gifts. There were freshly cut bread 
and golden butter, cold meat, a dish of baked apples, 
and home-made cakes. That was all, but it was an 
inviting meal. 

Mrs. Brentwell sat in her rocking-chair by the fire, 
and the children were gathered around her, sitting 
on low chairs and on the floor, watching the firelight 
and talking over the occurrences of the day as they 
awaited Mr. BrentwelFs coming. He had not yet re- 
turned since the reading of the will. 

What did you think, mother,” Herbert was ear- 
nestly asking, when he read out, ^ And to my friend 
the Rev. George D. Brentwell.’” 

/ thought,” cried Paul, ‘Hhat he was going to say 
the old gig.” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


67 


He left that to the next physician,” said Lestie. 

“And it was a very sensible idea,” said Horatio, 
who had always entertained a great respect for all of the 
doctor’s acts; “ for without doubt his successor will be 
a poor young man unable to buy one.” He sighed as 
he spoke. 

“ Oh, Horatio ! ” Daisy said, throwing her arms 
around her fayorite brother’s neck, “ don’t sigh ; you 
will be a physician yet.” 

“But, mother, I say,” persisted Herbert, “what did 
you think when he began to read about father ? ” 

“I heard what he had to say before I had time 
to make any conjectures,” returned Mrs. Brentwell 
smiling. 

“ Well, I conjectured,” said Lestie ; “ for it seemed 
to me that he stopped a full minute just there ; and I 
thought it would be those satin dresses that Miss Hettie 
showed me once, that she used to wear ; at least, I 
hoped so.” 

“ Oh ! Lestie,” cried her sisters. 

“Well, I’m mighty glad you were disappointed,” 
said Paul, unfeelingly. 

“A few old dresses wouldn’t have been worth a 
hundred dollars to us,” said Herbert. 

“I thought of the best thing I could,” explained 
Lestie. 

“You needn’t have thought of anything,” said 
Christie ; “ I didn’t.” 

“Mother,” said Daisy suddenly, “you’ll get a new 


68 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


bonnet now, won’t you ? You’ve worn that old one 
four winters.” 

Yes,” cried Lestie ; and I am going to have a 
dress like Lou Wartel’s.” 

A hundred dollars ! ” said Paul, meditatively, 
poking the fire with a stick he held in his hand. 
‘^Mother, ain’t it being awful rich to own a hundred 
dollars ? I don’t believe Mr. Van Pike has got more’n 
fifty.” Allow me to remark here, as an insight to Paul’s 
character, that he was a firm believer in the bag of gold 
at the end of the rainbow. He held the lighted stick 
up before his face while he waited anxiously for a reply. 

Horatio and Herbert laughed at the question. Daisy 
took the burning stick from his hands. 

“Don’t do that again, Paul,” said Mrs. Brentwell ; 
“you’ll set the house on fire.” 

“We can’t afford to burn up the old thing yet,” 
laughed Herbert. 

“Not until the interest accumulates a little at 
least,” added Horatio. 

“ Well, ain’t it rich ?” persisted Paul. 

“ No, it is not,” said Daisy. 

“ But we never had so much money at one time be- 
fore, did we ? ” 

“No, Paul,” replied Mrs. Brentwell, a little sadly. 
There was a momentary silence ; every one was occupied 
with their own thoughts. Mrs. Brentwell was going 
back over the years of toil and privation, spent with her 
husband and children — happy years ; for there was 


DAISY BKEHTWELL. 


69 


around her an unbroken band. Wbat wealth could buy 
them ? and during the years had she not learned the one 
invaluable lesson of self-forgetting ? 

Horatio, looking sadly into the fire, was remembering 
self wonderfully. He was thinking of the legacy, and 
the disappointment it had been to him ; for he had 
hoped, and really expected that the doctor would leave 
him a few, at the least, of his medical books. In yain 
he upbraided himself for his selfishness, and brought to 
his mind the fact, that though the books were worth five 
or six times the sum of money, which had been left — 
these would have been valuable only to himself. But 
still, of what use were they to Miss Nettie ? and the 
next physician would certainly have a library of his own. 
Horatio Vas growing despondent very fast ; and Daisy, 
wondering what she might do to draw his thoughts from 
himself unconsciously did the very thing ; she burst 
into a violent fit of coughing. 

Oh ! Daisy,’’ he cried, almost reproachfully, “why 
do you cough so ? ” 

“She has caught a fresh cold to-day,” said Mrs. 
BrentweU anxiously. 

“ Do you take the cough medicine now ? ” 

“It’s gone,” gasped Daisy. 

“And the doctor is dead,” said Christie, despairingly. 

Daisy lay back, weak and exhausted, in Horatio’s arms. 

“ Mother,” said Herbert, “ I’ll tell you what we’ll do ; 
we’ll take that hundred dollars and send Daisy away to 
get well.” 


70 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


That’s just what we’ll do,” said Christie. 

Yes, mother,” said Horatio, forgetting himself and 
his own great needs. 

''I should think,” Paul wisely observed, ^'that Ho- 
ratio knew enough to cure her himself.” 

If I only did.” 

Maybe,” said Christie, the next doctor will know 
so much more than Dr. Doreann that he will soon make 
her well.” 

I haven’t the least doubt of it,” said Mrs. Brent- 
well hopefully. 

Horatio was of a different opinion ; he had always 
thought that to know more than Dr. Doreann had 
known, was an impossibility. 

^‘1 am not sick, mother,” Daisy said, hoarsOly ; ^'it 
is only a little cold such as I’ve had a hundred times.” 

Yes, a hundred times ” all in one long cold. The 
words went down into the mother’s heart as she remem- 
bered when this began, and the fruitless efforts they 
made to check it. 

Similar thoughts were passing through Lestie’s 
mind as she sat silent. Daisy was always sick ! She 
always had been, and never gave any one else a chance ! 
Ho matter how much she coughed or was hoarse, no one 
cared ; and even Christie didn’t pity her, and Christie 
would pity the cat if he was sick ! Very cross looks 
came over her face as she thought on her trials, which 
were unnoticed by any but Paul. He was stretched 
out at full length on the floor behind her. Her long 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


71 


hair was temptingly near his hand, and he gave it a vio- 
lent jerk. 

Paul Brentwell, stop ! You little torment ! ” 

What’ll I stop ? I ain’t doing anything.” 

Another pull. 

Mother, he’s pulling my hair out by the handfuls. 
Make him stop.” 

That’s a whopper. I wish father ’d come.” 
wonder what keeps him,” said Christie rising 
and feeling the hands of the clock. It is half-past six 
now.” 

Another scream- from Lestie, at which Horatio put 
Paul out into the kitchen. 

I’ll pay you for that,” cried Paul, springing up 
and doubling his fists ; see if I don’t.” 

Paul,” said Mrs. Brentwell gently, go sit in that 
chair in the corner until you can make up your mind to 
be a good boy.” 

The child obeyed : there was no appeal when mother 
spoke, Mrs. Brentwell was not one of those women 
who betray their weakness to their children by threats 
of telling their father of their misconduct ; her word was 
sufficient. So Mr. Brentwell never knew one-hundreth 
part of the bringing up of the children. His wife never 
came to him with petty complaints of this one’s disobe- 
dience or that one’s sauciness, nor spoke of the trial 
they were to her at times, nor begged his interference : 
the manifold cares of the parish were his burden and 
the household cares hers. 


72 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


Herbert was always pained when Paul was in trouble, 
and Christie sighed over his sins ; but Lestie muttered 
‘‘ good/’ between her teeth. It was intended only for 
Paul to hear, but it fell upon her mother’s ears as well. 

Are you really glad that he is punished, Lestie ?” 
she said. 

Lestie did not reply immediately ; she was somewhat 
taken back by the directness of the question. ‘^He 
pulled my hair awfully,” she muttered at length. 

Are you glad that I punished him for doing so ? ” 

Of course she is,” growled Paul from his chair ; 
*'I’d be glad if she was sitting in the other corner.” 

I do not want you to speak, my son. Lestie, did 
you say you were glad ? ” 

Lestie was glad ; the punishment had rejoiced her 
exceedingly : it was eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth 
— not to mention a hair for a hair — between the two 
children, and Mrs. Brentwell knew it but too well. 

You are sorrj, ain’t you, Lestie ?” said Christie; 
^^we all are.” 

I ain’t,” came from the dark corner, where tears 
were beginning to flow freely. 

“ You are sorry, of course,” said Lestie ; '^he didn’t 
pull your hair.” 

This answered Mrs. Brentwell’s question. 

My child,” she said, gravely, have you become so 
completely absorbed in your own selfish little feelings 
that it has taken away all love for your little brother ? ” 

^^No, ma’am.” 


DAISY BREi^TWELL. 


73 


I fear you have. The annoyance that he caused 
you, you rejoice to see paid back in full. Have you so 
soon forgotten our Saviour’s pr^er for His enemies, 
when He was on the cross ? ” 

^^Ho ma’am.” 

Then tell me what it was.” 

^ Father forgive them ; for they know not what 
they do,’ ” Lestie jerked out, thinking it a very unparal- 
lel case, for Paul had known just what he did. • 

Would He have prayed in that manner,” continued 
Mrs. Brentwell, if He had not forgiven them already 
Himself?” 

No, ma’am,” faintly. 

Then if you had forgiven Paul the instant he 
pulled your hair, would you not have begged me not to 
send him to that corner, instead of rejoicing that I did? ” 
Lestie made no reply ; she was quite beyond doing so. 

Tell me this one thing, dear,” her mother went on 
gently ; ^Mo you not think that it is possible for our 
Saviour to forgive Paul for pulling your hair ? ” 

‘‘Yes, ma’am,” amid sobs. 

“Then can’t you do so when One so holy and 
mighty does ? ” 

“ Oh ! I do, mother ; but he don’t want me to.” 

“ Mother,” from the corner, “ I’m sorry I pulled her- 
hair ; may I come back ? ” 

“Yes, Paul. ” 

The impulsive boy ran to his mother and threw his 
arms around her neck. 

4 


74 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Tell Lestie so/’ slie whispered. 

He went to his tearful sister and gave her a hoy hug, 
unconsciously pullin^ier hair much harder than before; 
hut she, unmindful of it, returned the caress with ecpial 
fervor, while Christie, made very hapj)y by this act, em- 
braced them both, and wept tears of joy at their timely 
repentance. 

At that moment the gate was heard to shut, and a 
well-known step came up the walk. 

There is father,” Herbert joyfully announced. 
Christie left off weeping and caressing and lit the lamp, 
while Mrs. Brentwell, hastened to make the tea, and 
Daisy, who had been lying upon the settee for some time 
past, sat up. She did not want her father to think she 
was ill. 

The clergyman came home, as he always did, to a 
happy family circle. All signs of the recent storm had 
passed : there were smiles to greet him when he entered. 

He gave his hat and cloak to Herbert, who was in 
waiting, and seated himself by the fire. 

It’s a cold night for March,” he said, warming his 
hands by the blaze. 

Are you ready for supper ? ” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

We’ve been waiting for you.” 

There’ll be skating to-morrow. Herb,” shouted 
Paul. Hurrah ! I’m glad o’ that. I was afraid we’d 
had our last.” 

So am I glad,” chimed Lestie. 1 want to show 
Lou Wartel that I can skate backward better’n she can.” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


75 


is late/’ Mr. Brentwell said, glancing at the 
clock. I have been with Miss Nettie all this time. 
She is sorely afflicted, Maria.” ^ 

Indeed she is,” returned. Mrs. Brentwell. 

She is entirely alone now ; the old lady who was 
with her at the funeral has gone.” 

Who was she ? ” Lestie asked. 

^^Mrs. Lorraine.” 

‘^She was Miss Millie Stout,” Daisy said. 

Why, how hoarse you are,” cried her father, anx- 
iously. 

^^She had a hard coughing spell a little while ago,” 
Christie explained. And Horatio taking up the sub- 
ject of his sister’s ill-health, enlarged upon it, urging 
that something must be done,” and that something 
right soon. 

Father,” said Paul, when they were seated at the 
table, we’ve been planning what we’ll do with the 
money.” 

I am under the necessity of deciding that question 
myself,” Mr. Brentwell said, simply. 

Why ? ” How ? ” What are you going to do 
with it ? ” Why, father ! ” were the exclamations of 
the surprised group. 

I shall now be able to pajr some bills that I owe,” 
he returned. 

'^Why, George, I know of no large bills.” 

There are no large ones, but quite a number of 
small ones, which altogether amount to over seventy-five 


76 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


dollars. I have not spoken of them because I did not 
want to trouble any of you ; and I knew that God would 
send the money in His own good time, if I waited with 
faith and patience.” 

And so He has,” said Christie softly. 

The last vestige of the medical books disappeared 
from Horatio’s hopes ; Christie and Herbert gave up 
Daisy’s journey, and with it, her health ; and Daisy 
herself relinquished bright plans of a new parlor carpet. 
Lestie pouted as her dreams of gay dresses were thus 
rudely dispelled. Paul, who had no settled plans, only 
that the money must he spent, was the first, to speak. 

We were going to buy dresses,” he said, ‘‘and send 
Daisy ofi to get well with what was left.” 

“I was not going,” said Daisy, hoarsely. 

“ Something must he done for you,” returned Mr. 
Brentwell. “ I am hoping that the next physician will 
ho able to help you. And as for the dresses in which 
you are so interested, Paul, there will be over twenty 
dollars left for spring clothes.” 

Lestie clapped her hands ; she would have her dresses 
after all. 

“Pemember you need a new hat, my dear,” said 
Mrs. Brentwell. 

“ Pm not likely to forget that.” 

Horatio sat silent during the short evening that fol- 
lowed ; Daisy and the boys retired early, and the others 
sat around the fire determining what wonderful articles 
of wearing apparel should be purchased with the few re- 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


77 


maining dollars. As the clock struck the hour of nine, 
Horatio bade them good night, and went up stairs. 
Christie, going to her own room half an hour later, saw 
through the half-open door that he had not yet retired, 
but lay dressed upon the bed. She hastened in. 

Horatio, what is the matter ? Why haven’t you gone 
to bed ? Dear me ! you are as cold as ice.” She drew 
a quilt over him and sat down on the bed. His face 
was buried in the pillow, but she took it gently in her 
hands and raised it to the light, and saw that his cheeks 
were wet and the pillow was damp. 

Oh ! Christie,” he said, a little impatiently, was 
asleep. Why did you waken me ?” 

Because you were catching your death of cold.” 

I hope I have,” he returned quickly. 

“ Why do you talk that way ? ” 

Because I feel it. Why should I want to live ? I 
have no object in life, and here I am a burden and ex- 
pense on father ; and there’s no way in which I can 
earn a single cent — even to buy a few books. 

Books ! Why father has plenty of books for you to 
read.” 

I mean medical books to study. Oh ! Christie, I 
was getting along so well with Dr. Doreann ; every day 
he said something about my rapid progress, and I think, 
that in another year he would have taken me into part- 
nership ; but here I am thrown back again without a 
book or a cent. I do wish sometimes that I was dead — 
I wish so now. ” He buried his face in the pillow again. 


78 


DAISY BRE2^TWELL. 


Don’t talk that way, dear brother ; it is so wrong. 

I can’t help it if it is : I’m awful wicked anyway. 
How much happier you’d all be if I were dead and put 
out of the way ! I worry all of you the whole time ; 
mother begins to look sad the minute I come in sight. 
I do wish I was out of everybody’s way.” 

Don’t say that, Horatio ; you’ll break my heart,” 
Ghristie said, winding her arms around his neck. I 
believe we would all die if you did. Indeed I am 
sometimes afraid that you wiU be taken because wc 
almost worship you.” 

What nonsense ! ” he said as he returned her 
caress. If I’m taken at all it’ll be because I’m such 
an idle, good-for-nothing fellow.” 

< They also serve who only stand and wait,’ ” softly 
quoted Christie. 

I’m so selfish,” he went on. Do you know, Chris- 
tie, when we were talking of the legacy that the Doctor 
left, and the children were saying what they wished it 
had been, that I was thinking how disappointed I was.” 

^^Yhy, what have you wanted it to be ? We needed 
money so much.” 

‘^I know it ; and that’s just the worst part of my 
selfishness, Christie. I wanted the doctor’s books.” 

He whispered it into her ear ; for it was a great se- 
cret, and one which would never be confided to any one 
but Christie. Hers was one of those rare natures which 
are always confided in ; one so sympathizing, so unself- 
ish and loving that the cares of others were her own. 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


79 


We find these natures as by intuition, and when they 
are found we confide in them, pouring our dearest, 
closest-treasured secrets into their ear ; and when it is 
told we receive comfort and sympathy, and know that 
there is one in the whole width and breadth of the land 
who understands us, our motives, and our acts ; and 
that is a great deal to know, that there is one among 
all the millions — one sympathizing heart — to know us as 
we know ourselves. 

Every one in St. Paul’s Rectory confided in Christie. 
Secret gifts, little surprises and secret griefs were told her 
by father, mother, brothers and sisters. Mr. Brentwell, 
alone in the study, told her when the money was falling 
short, the needs that never would be supplied, the dis- 
couragements and trials of the parish which he merci- 
fully kept from his wife. Mrs. Brentwell held many a 
secret consultation with her in the kitchen about the 
manner in which they should make the ends meet, reform 
Paul, pay Herbert’s school-bill, or cure Daisy. So she 
stood as a shield between her two parents, receiving their 
cares and burdens, and bearing them. But not ^flone. 
Who would bear a burden when an elder Brother has 
offered to take it upon Himself ? What man travelling 
over a weary plain will jealously carry a crushing 
weight, when a Friend, a Brother, a Saviour offers to 
bear it for him ? Many do, many go through life sink- 
ing under care, yet refusing the aid, the strength, held 
out to them. But Christie did not refuse it ; gladly she 
availed herself of the promises, and committed all to Him. 


80 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


Horatio’s character was very different from his sis- 
ters : he must confide all of his feelings in some one, or, 
as he expressed it, die. And, generally speaking, our 
one great object in life is, after all, to preserve that life ; 
so Horatio, in spite of his former protestations to the 
contrary, had no idea of dying when he told Christie 
the whole sum of his trials. 

She sat silent a moment before she replied. I don’t 
wonder that you want the books,” she said, at length. 

I had not thought of it before, though Horatio,” 
she added, ^‘I’ve been thinking of two things since you 
spoke ; and I want to tell you what they are before I go 
to bed. Are you sleepy ? ” 

‘‘ No. Go on ; what have you thought ? ” 

Dr. Doreann was such an old man, you know,” she 
said, and practiced in such an old way — just as they 
did fifty years ago — that, perhaps, if you’d gone on 
studying with him, you would have learned wrong, and 
would have had to have studied it all over again. Now 
don’t you think so ? ” 

“Not exactly,” he said, smiling. “It might have 
occasioned me some inconvenience — ^yes, it’s quite a 
consideration.” 

“We will look at it in that light any way,” suggested 
Christie. 

“ What was your other idea ? ” 

“ Oh ! the best one. The way you are to get not 
only the books to study, but some one to study with. 
We are to have faith in God.” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


81 


What has that to do with it ? ” 

Don’t yon remember what father said at the supper 
table about the debts, and how he trusted in God and it 
all came right ? Well, Horatio, you and I will both 
pray that you will get books and some one to study with; 
and then you will get them.” 

Why, do you believe, Christie, that God will hear 
a prayer about such a temporal thing as money ? ” 

“ Indeed I do. He will give us whatever we need ; 
and He has made us to need money. He gave you the 
desire to become a physician, and He will provide the 
means. Trust Him ; that is all He asks of you. He 
may try your faith a little ; for He sometimes waits to 
see if we are really in earnest, and if we have true faith; 
but it will come in the end if we but ask of Him,” 

^^We will pray, Christie, and we will have fatth — 
that is you will, I know, and I will try. You have 
comforted me so much, little sister.” 

^‘Christie,” he added, suddenly, ^^what do you 
think of Daisy ? Do you think that she is going to 
die?” 

“ I think that God will cure her.” 

Do you pray for it ? ” 

Indeed I do. I pray for it whenever I look 
toward her, whenever I hear her speak ; and I know 
that father and mother and Herbert do, too.” 

But I think she will never get well.” 

Why Horatio ? ” 

I do, Christie ; and it worries me almost to death.” 


82 


DAISY BKEN^TWELL. 


‘^But why do you ? G'od will hear our prayers.” 

He may let her live a long time ; but, Christie, I 
say Daisy will never be well. ” 

^‘When Dr. Doreann examined her lungs, he said 
they were not diseased.” 

I know ; but they are very weak.” 

But God can cure her.” 

To be sure He can ; but if He cured every one who 
is ill no one would ever die.” 

Horatio, who are you talking to ?” asked a hoarse 
voice. A small ghostly looking figure stood beside 
them. It was Daisy, wrapped in a blanket from her 
bed. 

‘‘ Oh, Daisy !” they cried in surprise, ^^what made 
you get up.” 

I heard Horatio talking to someone, and I came 
to see who it was.” 

Horatio sprang up, and, lifting the slight form in 
his arms, carried her back to bed, while Christie fol- 
lowed to see tliat she was well covered. 

Tranquil sleep descended upon the rectory ; but one 
pair of eyes kept watch, one heart beat in its wakeful- 
ness. Christie lay thinking of Horatio and his troubles, 
long after he had sunk to slumber. 


CHAPTER VII. 


“With us there was a Doctor of Physic ; 

In all this world there was none him like 
To speak'Of physic and of surgery.” 

—Chaucer. 

A LL the leading topics in N'ewfield had been thor- 
oughly discussed ; and not only discussed but 
worn thread-hare. Dr. Doreann’s death and funeral had 
been talked over and over, and every feature of interest 
brought to light. Sam Lukehs’ unlooked for appear- 
ance had been a topic for some time, but all conjec- 
tures and investigations failing to bring the truth to 
light, it had been dropped, and the will — the contents 
of which were known by every one an hour after the 
reading — was next taken up, and not quite as soon dis- 
posed of : the clergyman’s hundred dollars was some- 
thing too wonderful to be overlooked in a day ; half the 
brains in Newfield were addled to decide how it should be 
spent, and every one agreed that it was a ^‘handsome 
thing of the doctor.” Mrs. March hoped from her 
heart that the girls wouldn’t be putting on airs, and that 
Mrs. Brentwell would have too much sense to be getting 
a hired girl,” and such ; and on the Sunday following, 
some of the congregation were greatly disappointed 
upon seeing the ladies of the rectory in their old dresses. 


84 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


when they had anticipated seeing them in velvet and 
silk attire. 

But the legacy was forgotten and a new theme 
started : the next doctor ; who would he he ? At pres- 
ent the Fairhope physician was attending the ill in 
Newfield ; but there was one .grand objection to him ; 
he was not always sober when he visited his patients, and 
temperance is quite a necessary item in a physician’s 
make up ; and beside this he was not noted for his 
success in the art of healing, and it was almost certain 
death when he was the attending physician. So Fair- 
hope was as much in need of the new doctor as New- 
field was. 

The only communication which the villagers held 
with the outer world, was by the means of a stage-coach, 
which rumbled along the quiet streets at four precisely 
every afternoon. And at this hour the windows of the 
houses by which it passed were well filled with curious 
heads, and one of the group always announced which 
coach it was — for the route was so long that there were 
two — and which driver. 

It was an intensely cold day, about a week after the 
old doctor’s funeral, when the stage came swaying along 
through the town with only two passengers inside. They 
were wrapped up to their eyes, and th^r hats — for they 
were both men — were drawn down to shield the upper 
part of the face. Long, curious looks followed them 
as they passed down the street : who loere they ? Mother 
Wade sent her son Tom down to the tavern to see if 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


85 


they went on to Fairhope, or if they alighted in New- 
field ; and if they did stop in the Tillage, at what place ; 
and, if possible, to learn who they were. He returned 
breathless in a short time, and reported the result of 
Kis investigations : one of them, he said, was Mr. Van 
Pike — a son of the gentleman who had so fortunately 
broken his arm long ago — the other one he did not 
know ; and they had both alighted at Miss Barker’s. 
This bit of information Mrs. Wade hastened to tell her 
neighbors ; and they, one and all, agreed that Mr. Van 
Pike was putting on airs to wrap himself up so that no 
one could recognize him — it was not so cold as all that, 
they knew. 

Miss Amelia Barker lived in the last house in N'ew- 
field. She was a maiden lady who supported herself by 
keeping boarders and doing plain sewing. She was 
short and fat and had been handsome in her young 
days — a fresh buxom beauty that does not fade soon. 
She was one of the few in Newfield who knew how to 
mind their own affairs, and she minded hers so well 
that the towns-people were kept in a state of perpetual 
anxiety and baffled curiosity concerning her doings. 

Her sisterdn-law boarded with her. Mrs. Mary Barker 
was the wife of an only and much beloved brother who 
had died some years before. She- was the opposite of 
Miss Amelia in almost every respect. She was a great 
talker, and not being highly educated, her neighbors 
and their affairs were her topics. But she was a kind- 
hearted woman and bore no ill-will ; she would tell the 


1 


80 DAISY BEENTWELL. 

simple facts as she had heard them, and with fewer 
additions than many gave. She was not, like Miss 
Amelia, alone in the world ; she had a married daughter 
living in Philadelphia. 

About two years before we write, a wealthy youn^ 
merchant from that city had spent the summer in 
ISTewfield, boarding with Miss Barker, and he had fallen 
in love with the pretty face of the widow’s daughter 
and married her immediately, taking her to his city 
home. She had made but two short visits to Newfield 
since, and she had then felt her station to be so far above 
that of the village people that they were not even per- 
mitted to see her. 

Miss Amelia never told her sister-in-law anything that 
she did not want the whole village to know. And as she 
had not wanted the villagers to know of the two gentlemen 
who were to arrive that day, Mrs. Barker was as much 
astonished as any one in town, when the stage stopped 
before their door and they alighted. She had been 
stationed at one of the little front windows the whole 
day, and had been rewarded by the sight of three passers- 
by ; for, to her great sorrow, very few persons found it 
necessary to pass the little brown cottage. Every one of 
these persons was a subject of half an hour’s conversa- 
tion ; but all that could be said of them had been said, 
and she truly had been sitting quite silent for fifteen 
minutes or more when the stage drove up and the two 
gentlemen alighted. As they entered the gate Mr. Van 
Pike removed the scarf which had enveloped his face. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


87 


she cried, ‘if there ain’t Mr. Van Pike 
and the handsomest young man you ever saw coming in 
our gate ; and Bill Toms is bringing in a trunk — it does 
• heat all ! ” 

Miss Amelia sprang up, dropping in her haste her 
spool and scissors, which the kitten immediately took 
charge of. 

She opened the door in response to their loud knock. 

“It is a cold day, ladies,” said Mr. Van Pike, as he 
greeted them. 

“I knew it was,” responded Mrs. Barker eagerly; 
“ for there haven’t been but three persons by here to-day.” 

Mr. Van Pike smiled; he knew the widow’s weak- 
ness. “ Miss Barker,” he said “ our new physician. Dr. 
St. James.” 

“ I bid you welcome to such as I have,” said the little 
woman, holding out her hand to greet him. 

“ Thank you, Miss Barker,” he said, taking her hand, 
and bowing over it. 

“And this,” continued Mr. Van Pike, turning to 
the widow, who listened with open-mouthed astonish- 
mei?l that the long-talked-of physician had actually 
come — and come to their house, “and this is Mrs. 
Barker.” 

The doctor shook hands with her. 

“ Law sakes ! ” she cried. “ It’s the new doctor : 
’Melie never said a word about it.” 

“ She didn’t ? ” said Mr. Van Pike with well-feigned 


surprise. 


88 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


she’s yery close-moutlied.” 

The overcoats, cloaks, scarfs, gloves and hats were 
at length removed, and Miss Amelia hastened to place 
comfortable chairs before the fire. 

You’re just frozen through, I know,” she said, 
and as hungry as you can be.” 

I think we will plead guilty to both charges,” said 
Mr. Van Pike as he stretched his hands out before the 
cheerful blaze. 

I’ll get you a cup of tea and some of my ginger- 
bread right away. It isn’t the best kind of cake, to be 
sure, but I hope you can eat it.” 

Mr. Van Pike laughed as he thanked her. 

She fiitted out and in, bringing in the ‘^gingerbread 
and tea,” in the shape of cold meat, cold cut tongue, 
stewed apples, preserved peaches, mince pies, fresh but- 
ter, snowy biscuits, and finally gingerbread. 

“I was saying to ’Melie,” began Mrs. Barker, “that 
I believed it was the coldest day in the year, and that it 
keeps getting colder instead of warmer ; so that I’m 
afraid that we are not going to have any summer at all. 
But she was cheering me up and saying that it Vill 
certainly come. ’Melie’s always looking on the bright 
side o’ things, which I can’t do. Do you remember 
that time, Mr. Van Pike, wlien Deacon Lawson was 
going to sell our house away from us ? I just set to 
and had a good time crying and desponding ; but 
’Melie didn’t give up a bit though we hadn’t a cent to 
pay the deacon. ‘ Don’t be crying, Mary,’ says she ; 


DAISY BKEITTWELL. 


89 


Hhe Lord’s on oiir side, and He’ll never forsake the 
fatherless and widows, which we are ! ’ And sure 
enough. He didn’t. Some folks in the village raised 
money among them when they heard of it, and gave 
us enough to pay oft all we owed on the Louse. ^ There,’ 
says she, ^ didn’t I tell you ? ’ And I said she did ; I 
gave her the credit of that. But I hav’n’t any more 
faith in Deacon Lawson’s piety and long prayers. 
Many’s the time I’ve staid home from prayer-meeting 
for fear he’d pray, and he always does when he’s there. 
I don’t hear malice against him ; but I don’t want any- 
thing to do with him. When his daughter Jane was 
married, and they sent us invitations to the wedding 
party, I says to ’Melie, ^ I won’t go, and that’s the end 
of it; don’t you be asking me to, either.’ And she 
didn’t. But when the night came round, I thought I 
ought to go to keep ’Melie company, and I ought to be 
forgiving, too. Besides that she can never tell half what 
a body has on.” 

^‘The tea’s steeped now,” interposed Miss Amelia, 
placing it on the table as she spoke. Please set to. 
Mary will you take a cup ? ” 

No ; thank you, it ain’t long before supper time,” 
replied Mrs. Barker. 

Eat as hearty as you can,” said Miss Amelia, as the 
gentlemen seated themselves at the well-filled table. 
knew you must be well-nigh starved so I just hurried 
together the best I could get.” 

No apologies, I beg,” said Mr. Van Pike, placing 


90 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


an enormous slice of meat on the doctor’s plate. 
‘^Take some tongue, too. Dr. St. James. It’s a special 
dish with me.” 

I am glad I had it in the house,” said Miss Barker; 
her real joy showing itself in the smiles that lighted up 
her kind face. 

That tongue reminds me of the supper we had at 
Deacon Lawson’s that night I was telling of,” said Mrs. 
Barker. “ They didn’t have supper until nigh about 
nine o’clock, and that was long enough after they were 
married. Old Dr. Doreann, poor man ” (with a sigh), 
took ’Melie out, and old John Hawks took me. I made 
up my mind then and there that he’d never beau me 
again iiny where ; I almost cried at his impoliteness ; for 
I do know something if I haven’t ever been to York. 
Well, John he came up to me, with his trousers tucked 
in his boots, and his best coat on, and his hair smelling 
so strong of goose grease and his hands of brown soap, 
they scented the whole room. ‘ Well, indeed,’ says he, 
" who’s beauing you to-night ? ’ ‘ ’Most all of them,’ I 

says ; for I wasn’t going to let him know that they 
weren’t. ‘ I saw you weren’t talking ! ’ says he, ^ and I 
wondered what was the matter. ’ 

was taking inward notes,’ says I. Td rather 
take something else inward,’ says he. ' They’re all going 
out to provender j let’s you and I hook arms ’ (his very 
words), ' and follow ; ’ with that he poked his arm out 
a-kimbo, and I took hold somewhere about the elbow, 
and we jostled out, he taking great strides and I half- 


DAISY BREi^TWELL. 


91 


running to keep up with him. There was a big crowd 
hurrying into the sitting-room where the table was 
laid, and John elbowed his way through dragging me 
after him. We got to the table about the first, and got 
a good place right by the big pound cake ; and John, 
without waiting for manners, or anything, took a big 
piece of the cake before anybody else was helped. 
‘Pitch in, widow,’ says he, with his mouth full; ‘it’s 
all fired good.’ So I took a slice too, though I knew it 
wasn’t exactly polite ; but then it wouldn’t have been 
manners to refuse, seeing he beaued me out, and there 
was Crissy Wells and half a dozen others without any 
beaux at all.” 

“ But what about the tongue ? ” asked Mr. Van 
Pike. 

“ I always was very fond o’ tongue, and that night 
at Deacon Lawson’s I didn’t see right away that they 
had any ; I was so busy talking to John ; and when I 
saw it, I says to him, ‘ There’s some tongue, Pd thank 
you to pass it.’ ‘ What did you say?’ says he. ^ Pd thank 
you for some o’ that tongue,’ says I again, tliinking he 
didn’t hear me. ‘ Do you hear th^t ? ’ he cried, raising 
liis voice, ‘ Widow Barker wants some tongue. Ha ! 
ha ! did you ever hear the like ? ’ And everybody but 
the parson and Mrs. Lawson laughed ; and the deacon 
laughed the loudest of them all. Mrs. Lawson didn’t 
see the joke any more than I did, and brought the 
■plate of it up to me.” 

The gentlemen had by this time finished their re- 


92 


DAISY BKEN-TWELL. 


past, and Mr. Van Pike, being well warmed, felt equal 
to the task of ascending the hill which led to his own 
home. Wishing them a ^^good evening,” he took his 
departure ; and Mrs. Barker wisely suggested that the 
doctor might wish to be shown to his room. 


CHAPTEE VIII. 


"A /|“ISS B AEKEE’S house contained but six rooms. A 
very small place, it may be thought, for a boarding 
house ; and so it was. But there were never more 
than two boarders there at a time. At present one was 
a youth from the country. His father, a well-to-do 
farmer, desiring that the youngest son should be edu- 
cated, had sent him to Newfield to attend the village 
academy — the only one for twenty miles around. 

Silas Thorpe — ^for that was the youth’s name — was 
not remarkably handsome (every one is not), but he had 
a good figure, and being of a fine appearance and pos- 
sessing ample means he dressed in the height of New- 
field fashion, which the lasses orthe village took note of, 
and smiled on him accordingly, but to no avail ; he 
never sought their society. There was one great draw- 
back to his doing so though he greatly desired to ; he 
was extremely bashful. So he always spent his evenings 
with the Barkers ; for having lived with them for over 
eighteen months, he at length became well acquainted 
with them, and a great friendship had sprung up be- 
tween Miss Amelia and himself. 

Miss Barker’s cottage contained but six rooms ; four 
on the first floor and two above. It was built with 
a tw(>story main building and a one-story wing on 


94 


DAISY BREiS^TWELL. 


either side. The front door opened into the general 
family room. Back of this room was the wide, i)leas- 
ant kitchen. 

There was a door leading into the street — or rather, 
into the yard — from the north wing. So that was to be 
the doctor’s ofQce. The south wing was his bed-room, 
and as they both opened off of the sitting-room it was 
considered a fine arrangement. 

We thought,” Miss Barker said, as she showed him 
his sleeping room, ‘^that you would like being down 
stairs, where you can hear any one who may knock in 
the night.” 

You are very thoughtful,” said St. James, as he 
entered the room. 

It was a pleasant little apartment. A bright home- 
made carpbt.coYered the fioor, and white muslin curtains 
were looped hack from the windows. 

Miss Barker’s besS^Datch-work quilt adorned the 
high bed. It was the only quilt of that pattern in New- 
field, which was a very fortunate state of affairs ; for it 
was enough to keep any one who lay upder it awake 
half the night. The doctor smiled as he surveyed it. 
There was a glaring red sun in the centre, with most 
impossible rays, which extended to the edge of the 
quilt ; between each of these rays were little blue stars, 
and four pink moons were just disappearing in the four 
corners ; the whole was upon white groundwork. This 
was the crowning glory of Mrs. Barker’s life. She had 
invented the pattern herself, and had refused on all 


m 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 95 

- /4 /V /'f 

occasions to lend it to her neighbors — the only in- 
stance on record when the widow was known to be dis- 
obliging. 

Thurston St. James was the third son of a wealthy 
Philadelphian. He was born and educated in that city, 
and lived there until this time. And now at the age of 
twenty-five he for the first time, left his father’s roof. 
He had started out with great ideas of independence, 
and refused any money they offered him. He was tall, 
with broad shoulders, and fine looking. His mouth was 
firm and resolute, but half its beauty was hidden by a 
dark moustache — the only hair that he permitted to 
grow on ‘his face. His large eyes were dark blue, and 
there was something so mournful in their gaze that it 
amounted even to sadness. He was devoted to his pro- 
fession, and had made the study of it the one great 
object of his life ; but he also had some taste for theo- 
logical pursuits. He was a stronj^resbyterian, and was 
well informed in the particular tenets of that religion ; 
having read as many of their popular theological works 
as his close application to his professiQn would allow ; 
he had, however, read only on that one side. 

• He sat down before his trunk and opened it. The 
first thing that met his eyes was a letter directed to 
himself in his mother’s handwriting. He picked it up 
eagerly, and as he opened it a number of bank bills fell 
from it. He gathered them up, and counted them : 
three hundred dollars ! There was an affectionate note 
from his mother, saying that she had regretted his un- 


96 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


■willingness to accept a large amount -when lie left his 
home, and knew that he would need much. Thurston 
tried to persuade himself that he was displeased, but he 
failed utterly, and even smiled as he placed it in his 
purse by the remains of the twenty-five which he had 
accepted when he came away. And he wrote immedi- 
ately to his mother, thanking her for the gift, and giidng 
her a description of his journey to Newfield and his 
reception there. 

Two hours later, when he left his room he found 
the family assembled in the kitchen, which was also used 
as a dining-room. Silas Thorpe sat by the fire ; he had 
been talking to the ladies, but stopped the moment the 
doctor entered. 

Did you have a good sleep ? ” asked Miss Amelia, 

, who was setting the table for supper. 

I have not been Mng down ; I found my time fully 
occupied in unpacking’ 

Well, there now, I’d have helped you if you’d just 
said the word,” said Mrs. Bai'ker regretfully. Such a 
treat as had been lost ! unpacking the doctor’s trunk, 
and knowing to the figure how many shii*ts he owned ; 
and if there were any old love-letters to read over when 
new ones did not come ; to have seen the picture of 
his lady-love — besides everything else it must have con- 
tained, for it was the largest trunk she had ever seen. 
‘‘You must be tired.” 

“ Oh no, I am not,” returned Dr. St. James ; “it 
was not a very great task.” 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


07 


^^Dr. Sfc. Janies, let me make you acquainted with. 
Mr. Silas Thorpe,” said Miss Amelia. 

Thurston took the youth’s hand in a hearty grasp. 

I am glad to meet you, sir,” the doctor said, really 
pleased with his appearance. 

Silas made some response, which his bashfulness ren- 
dered unintelligible ; but he determined secretly that he 
would like this elegant gentleman. 

Silas is dreadful bashful,” observed Mrs. Barker, 
by the way of embarrassing him. 

The doctor making no reply, she continued : 

ISTow if you have another trunk coming I’ll help you 
unpack it.” 

Thank you,” returned Dr. St. James ; I have 
no more trunks, but my books will be here to-morrow ; 
they however will be too he^-vy for you to assist me in 
unpacking.” 

Well, they might,” returned the widow doubtfully. 
She determined, however, to be present. 

Tea is ready,” announced Miss Amelia at that mo- 
ment. Silas, please put up your chair to the table, 
and bring the doctor one.” 

Silas withdrew his eyes one instant from Thurston’s 
face, where they had rested since that gentleman entered 
the room, and complied with the request. The doctor 
was standing with his back to the stove enjoying the 
warmth. 

I really feel unable to eat anything. Miss Barker,” 
he said. 


5 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


98 , 


Well, just take a cup o’ tea ; it will warm you up,” 
said the spinster, entreatingly. 

• ' Why, it won’t seem like tea at all if you don’t sit 
down too,” said Mrs. Barker. 

The doctor had just seated himself in the chair 
placed for him, when a loud, startling knock sounded at 
the outer door of the sitting-room. 

Who can that be ? ” said Miss Amelia, earnestly 
looking from one face to another. 

They made noise enough,” said Mrs. Barker. 

I wonder what they want,” said Miss Amelia, still 
in great astonishment. 

'^They may want to get in,” said Dr. St. James. 
Miss Amelia acting upon this suggestion hastened to 
open the door. 

My sakes ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Barker; ^^it always 
frightens me so to hear a loud knock ; it reminds me 
of the time they brought my Josiah home on a shutter. 
The men that brought him gave the awful lest knock you 
ever heard. It frightened me so that it was five min- 
utes before I knew enough to open the door, and the 
men were terribly angry because I kept them there hold- 
ing that heavy shutter. There my Josiah lay : I 
thought he was dead, and I gave one scream, ^ Josiah,’ 
I says, ^has it come to this, that I see you lying 
there dead, and your wife a widow. Oh, has it come 
to this ? ’ ' No,’ he called out ; ‘ it ain’t come to noth- 

ing.’ And I thought he was speaking to me from 
Heaven. But those men hadn’t a spark of sympathy 


I 

i 

I 

1 

:? 

A 




DAISY BREKTWELL. 


99 


for a woman’s tender heart; they only hurried me 
to get a bed ready to lay him in. You can’t tell how 
relieved I felt when I found that he had only sprained 
his ankle. But to this day I hate to hear a loud knock 
at the door. 

In the meantime a vigorous whispered conversation 
was being carried on at the outer door between Miss 
Barker and a neighbor’s daughter, who had run to the 
house, with a shawl thrown over her head, to deliver to 
the inmates of the cottage invitations to a quilting 
party which her mother intended giving on the follow- 
ing Tuesday afternoon and evening. 

Miss Amelia had accepted the invitations for her 
sister-in-law and herself, and told the young girl of the 
new physician’s arrival. 

Bring him along : do. Ma’ll be dreadful glad. 
Is he married ? ” 

ISTo. You’d better come in and ask him yourself ; 
maybe he won’t take an invitation second-hand.” 

Me go in ? Oh my stars ! I don’t look fit,” gig- 
gled the young lady. 

Fit ! of course you do. Just walk right in,” said 
Miss Amelia, drawing her into the house and closing 
the door after her. 

The doctor sat with his back to the sitting-room 
door as she entered the kitchen smoothing her hair. 

Good evening. Mis’ Barker. Good evening, Mr. 
Thorpe. Miss Amelia told me to walk right in, and not 
to mind if I don’t look fit to be seen. I hope you’ll 


100 DAISY BRENTWELL. 

f 

excuse my appearance. I don’t know what ma’ll say 
to my coming in.” 

She was clad in a bright-hued calico dress, with a 
snowy collar and red bow, and a neat white apron ; 
altogether, with her shining hair, she could not have 
looked neater. And, as she took a seat by the stove, 
the doctor thought he saw in her the personification 
of a village belle ; for having heard so much of that 
rustic beauty he was now on the look-out for her. ^ 

Miss Morris, allow me to make you acquainted ' 
with Dr. St. James of Philadelphia,” spoke Miss Amelia. | 

The doctor arose and made a low bow. Miss Morris, j 

seeing that was city manners followed his example. f 

Our new doctor,” added Mrs. Barker. i 

The new doctor ! My stars ! ” returned Miss Mor- .) 
ris. You must have had a cold ride,” she said to him. j 
It was yery cold indeed,” said Thurston. \ 

My stars ! I’m glad that I hadn’t to go riding in ^ 
that old stage to-day.” | 

^‘1 would have chosen another day if it had been ’ 
possible,” said the physician. 

“ You were ’most frozen when you got here,” said ,j 
Mrs. Barker. ’ 

He was ! My stars ! ” Miss Morris remarked t 
quietly. J 

Miss Barker’s kind cup of tea soon revived me.” i 

‘^And Mr. Van Pike, too,” added Mrs. Barker, 
that their neighbor might know of the distinguished j 
visitor. 


DAISY BKEI^TWELL. 


lo; 


Was Mr. Van Pike here.? ” she cried. The very 
idea ! I wonder how Laury is. I’m going up there 
to-morrow to invite her to our quilting party. I ’most 
forgot what I came in for. We’re going to have a quilt- 
ing party at our house next Tuesday. I asked Miss 
’Melie, and she says she’ll come ; and I s’pose you will 
too. Mis’ Barker.” 

Me ? Oh, yes. I’ll come ; and I’ll do a power o’ 
sewing. What pattern is your mother going to quilt 
them ? ” 

My stars, as if I knew,” giggled Miss Morris. 

^^Are they Maria’s quilts?” asked Miss Amelia, 
meaningly. 

Yes, but you musn’t let on I told you : she’d he 
awful mad. I just called in,” continued Miss Morris, 
smiling her politest smile, to ask if the doctor and Mr. 
Thorpe would give us the pleasure of their amiable soci- 
ety in the evening, to come at seven.” 

The doctor instantly resolved to accept the invita- 
tion, for the double purpose of the pleasure it would 
give him, and the opportunity it would afford of making 
the acquaintance of the towns-people. 

Silas said a few almost unintelligible words about 
not being able to do so, to which Miss Morris replied 
that he must. You’re always refusing everybody,” 
she went on ; but I won’t let you off so easy,” with 
a coquettish glance which was entirely lost upon him. 

But the doctor will come,” she continued. 

It will give me great pleasure to do so, and I cer- 


102 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


tainly shall accept your kind invitation if Mr. Thorpe 
will accompany me.” 

I ! ” said Silas, surprised out of his bashfulness, 
'‘You certainly cannot want me to accompany you.” 

"I certainly do,” said Dr. St. James; "for being 
entirely unacquainted with the people of Newfield I 
shall need you to introduce me.*” Perceiving at once 
the unfortunate bashfulness under which Silas labored, 
the kind-hearted doctor determined to assist him to 
overcome it. 

"I am not much acquainted either,” returned Silas, 
the matter looking more favorable in the light of the 
doctor’s protection. 

" Now, Mr. Thorpe, do come,” smiled Miss Morris. 

"Yes now, Silas, when Marthy asks you so pretty,” 
said Mrs. Barker. " It’s a great shame to think how 
you stay at home. You’ve no idea of it, doctor.” • 

"My stars, no!” ejaculated Miss Morris. "And 
when the doctor wants to come so bad too,” she added. 

"Yes,” said Thurston, repressing a smile at this 
description of his feelings. 

" Silas will go, I know,” said Miss Amelia. 

" Well, perhaps I may,” he answered desperately. 

"I must go,” said Miss Morris, at length rising. 
"My stars ! but it’s got dark quick,” looking out of 
the window, and thinking hqw nice it would be to have 
the handsome stranger escort her home on the night of 
his arrival. 

Nothing, however, was farther from Thurston’s 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


103 


thoughts. But Mrs. Barker understood the remark and 
hastened to prevent such a thing. “ Silas will go home 
with you if you are afraid,” said she obligingly. 

* Oh, ^no !” cried Miss Martha, ^‘Bm not afraid.” 
Silas arose and was getting his hat. Indeed, I’m not 
afraid, Mr. Thorpe ; it ain’t two steps. Good night, 
folks. Be sure and come early on Tuesday afternoon ; ” 
and Miss Morris was gone. 

I guess you forgot your manners, ’Melie, when you 
didn’t ask her to have a cup of tea,” said Mrs. Barker as 
the door closed after her. 

She said at the door that she’d been to tea.” 

I’d have asked her myself if I’d had a chance to 
get a word in.” 

‘^I believe the tea is cold,” observed Miss Barker, 
placing it on the stove. 

‘‘So those quilts are for Maria’s outfit,” said tlie 
widow. “ That wedding’s a job for Mr. Brentwell ; 
for these Morrises are stiff-backed Episcopalians, and so 
are the Van Pikes. Will you ask a blessing, doctor ? ” 

Thurston readily complied with the request. ' Mrs. 
Barker was well pleased by the five minutes’ prayer which 
he made. And Silas, although by no means careless of 
religion, thought that it would have been as well if Dr. 
St. James had restricted himself to asking a blessing on 
the f ood^ instead of praying at that time for everything 
and everybody. ^ 

“ That is the best prayer I have heard in a long time,” 
said Mrs. Barker with a long-drawn sigh when he 


104 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


had concluded. suppose that you are a pro- 

fessor.” 

am ; and I endeavor to live up to my profession.” 

That relieves my mind. Mary and I have belonged 
to Baptist meeting these twenty-five years or more.” 

Indeed ! I am a Presbyterian. I was born and 
bred in that faith. Are you too a Baptist, Mr. 
Thorpe ? ” 

I am an Episcopalian,” he answered. 

‘‘As I was saying,” said Mrs. Barker, “the Vaii 
Pikes are Episcopalians. Laury is stuck up as you 
please. Daisy Brentwell now she likes, but Daisy don’t 
care for her. Laury don’t care for the other girls. 
The Brentwells are all nice folks, but they have their 
troubles : that Paul of theirs is the worst boy in 
town, and he’s going right on from worse to worse ; and 
Daisy is going to die, that’s sure. She’s bleeding at the 
lungs again ; what do you suppose made her ? ” 

“A sudden cold, perhaps,” said the doctor, think- 
ing she had asked him professionally. 

“ Well, it was her awful temper.” 

“ Now, Mary, you never saw her angry,” said Miss 
Amelia. 

“ No, but Crissy Wells was telling me the other day 
that Mrs. March told her the night before — and she 
had it from Mother AVade, that Tim saw her so awfully 
mad that she stamped and danced on the floor.” 

“ And what made her ?” Silas asked, as if he knew 
all of the matter. 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


105 


Tim tortured her little kitteu.” 

‘^Indeed I don’t wonder that she was angry,” said 
the doctor ; I should have been inclined to apply the 
same treatment to him.” 

Paul and Herbert gave it to him,” said Silas, for- 
getting himself in the excitement of the moment. 

Well, ’’said Mrs. Barker, jerking her chair closer 
to the table, ''there’s nothing that will reconcile my 
mind to a minister’s daughter letting her angry passions 
rise.” 

6 * 


CHAPTER IX. 


He appeared as tall as an ordinary spire-steeple, and took about ten 
yards at every stride, as near as I could guess. I was struck with the utmost 
fear and astonishment.” — D ean Swift. 


ISS MARTHA MORRIS left her home the next 



A-V-L morning as soon as the work was ‘^done up/’ 
and spent the day calling upon the village people, in- 
viting them one and all to the quilting party. At the 
same time she gave an account of her call at Miss 
Amelia’s, and a highly colored description of Dr. St. 
James. 

She arrived at the rectory quite late in the afternoon. 
The male portion of the family were out — of course Miss 
Morris was relieved when she saw that. Mrs. Brent- 
well was at her usual Saturday’s baking, and her three 
daughters were sewing in the sitting-room. 

Good afternoon, girls. How are you all ? I’ve 
been trying to get around here all the week ; for I heard 
Daisy was sick again. My stars ! how sick you do look ! 
You’re as yellow as saffron.” 

am better than I was, thank you,” replied Daisy, 
think I am well now.” 

‘‘I’m glad to hear that. I’ve had the awfullest 
tooth-ache all this week. Oh, there’s Mis’ Brentwell ! 
Busy as ever I see,” going out into the kitchen. “ My 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


107 


stars, what nice bread ! I’ve heard ma tell time and 
again that it took Mis’ Brentwell to make good bread.” 

Take a chair by the fire,” said Daisy, as they 
returned to the sitting-room. 

I haven’t a minute to stay. I just ran in to invite 
you all ’round to our house next Tuesday afternoon to a 
quilting party. Your mother and you three girls are to 
come in the afternoon — early, mind ; and your pa and 
the boys, and Mr. Horatio are to come to tea. And iff 
the evening we are going to have the biggest kind of 
a party. ” 

Oh, that yrill be elegant,” cried Lestie. We’ll 
all come.” 

Thank you,” said Daisy, I am certain we will be 
happy to come.” 

“ I’m just worn out,” sighed Martha, rocking slowly ; 

I’ve been delivering invitations all day ; and I do 
believe the whole village will be there — even the new 
doctor 

The new doctor ! ” cried the sisters. 

“ When did he come ? ” asked Lestie. 

Oh, my stars ! You don’t mean to say that you 
don’t know. Why, you are behind the times.” 

We’ve seen no one,” Lestie said byway of apol- 
ogy. Do tell us ; who is he ? and what is he like ? 
and when did he come ? ” 

I can’t answer all those questions at once,” returned 
Miss Morris giggling. I’ll begin at the beginning and 
tell you all I know. First, his name is St. James.” 


108 


DAISY DEEHTWELL. 


That is a pretty name,” said Christie. What is 
his Christian name ? ” 

Oh my stars, I didn’t ask him ! He boards at 
Widow Barker’s.” 

Widow Barker’s ! ” repeated Lestie and Daisy : 
Christie for some cause kept silent. 

Yes, at Widow Barker’s, and he came yesterday ; 
Mr. Van Pike brought him, and he’s from Philadelphy. 
Tdiss ’Melie said so when she introduced him to me.” 

Why ! did you get acquainted with him ? ” asked 
Lestie. 

Oh my stars, yes ! spent an evening with him 
already.” 

How did that happen ?” asked Christie. 

Pm going to tell you.” 

Well, do so as quick as you can,” laughed Daisy ; 
^^for we are really dying with curiosity.” 

Ma says to me yesterday, right after tea, ‘ Marthy, 
I’m worried about those invitations ; there hasn’t, one 
been given out yet, so just take your shawl and run 
over to Miss Amelia’s, and invite her and the widow to 
our quilting, and Silas Thorpe, too, if he’ll come.’ ^ Oh, 
my stars ! ’ says I, ‘ there ain’t any use in inviting Silas 
Thorpe ; he’ll never come, I know.’ ‘ Well, you might 
be polite, and ask him,’ says she. And so I just run 
over with my shawl on my head. I gave an awful 
knock, for I was in a hurry ; it was so cold standing 
there. Miss ’Melie she came to the door half frightened 
to death. I gave her the invitations, and she told me 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


109 


about the new doctor’s coming from Philadelphy that 
day. I didn’t think much ’about him so I just said, 
‘Fetch him along.’ But she wasn’t going to take him 
any invitations second-hand, she said ; and she dragged 
me right into the kitchen where they were just sitting 
down to tea ; and oh my stars, girls, I looked awful ! I 
never was so ashamed ! but Miss ’Melie made me go 
right in. There was Silas Thorpe looking as spruce as 
ever, but the doctor took the shine all off of him. Oh, 
girls, he’s elegant ! ” 

“ Is he young ?” asked Lestie. 

“ Oh, awful young ! When Miss ’Melie introduced 
me,” she went on, “he rose right up, and made the most 
elegant bow you ever saw ; it beats Silas Thorpe’s all 
hollow ; and the girls used to think no one could bow 
like him. Well, the doctor he was dressed to kill : ele- 
gant broadcloth clothes, and the most beautiful black 
neck-tie I ever saw ; I thought I’d go off, but I never 
said a word ; ” (Daisy thought not) “ and he had two 
rings. ” 

“ What kind ? ” questioned Lestie. 

“ Oh my stars, I didn’t ask him ! but I guess one 
was a di’mond, it shone like Laury Van Pike’s. And 
he’s got an elegant gold watch and chain, and a di’mond 
pin on his shirt front.” 

“ My ! ” said the astonished Lestie. 

“Yes,” continued Miss Morris, much gratified by the 
impression she was making — ^^yes, and he’s got the 
smallest, teeniest little boots I ever saw ; and oh my 


no 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


stars, girls, what hands ! they ain’t as big as mine ; as 
true as I’m sitting here, girls ! ” 

“But what does he look like ? ” asked Christie. 

“ He’s the handsomest man I ever laid my eyes on ; 
it ’most took me off my feet to look at him. He’s got 
the loveliest hair ; it’s wavy and curly and glistens in 
the light, and it’s kind o’ reddish. No, I don’t mean 
that — it ain’t real red, one minute it’s real black.” 

“ Why did he come to Newfield ? ” 

“ I don’t know : Miss ’Melie didn’t know.” 

“I wonder if he belongs to our church,” said 
Christie. 

“I don’t know that either,” regretfully acknowl- 
edged Miss Morris. 

“Will he he at the quilting ? ” asked Lestie. 

“ Oh, I must tell you,” brightening up again. “ I 
asked him and Silas both together, and Silas said ^ No,’ 
just as I expected he would ; and what do you think Dr. 
St. James said ? ” 

“ I hope he didn’t refuse, too,” said Lestie. 

“He said,” leaning forward and lowering her voice 
impressively, “ that he would, if Silas would. " Oh, my 
stars! ’says Silas, ^you don’t want me.’ ‘Yes, I do,’ 
says the doctor. ‘I don’t know any one and can’t go,’ 
says Silas. Then the doctor says to me as pretty, 
‘You may expect me, Marthy, if you can make Silas go.’ 
You see, the doctor’s awful bashful, and he wants some 
company to go with. ‘ Oh my stars ! ’ says he, ‘ to think 
of my going alone — I’d rather die.’ ” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


Ill 


The new doctor said that ? ” cried Daisy, in great 
surprise, while he sank somewhat in her opinion. 

Martha said Yes,” at all hazards, though she was 
a little doubtful in her own mind — ^^yes ; for he’s bash- 
ful.” 

Will Silas come ? ” asked Lestie. 

Well, Miss ’Melie and Mis’ Barker began coaxing 
him too, and I think he will. At any rate. Dr. St. 
James won’t come without him, so maybe lie’ll come for 
his sake. I must be going now,” she added, rising. 

‘‘ Don’t hurry,” said Daisy. 

Oh, I must ; I’ve been away all day. I ’most 
forgot, Lestie ; I’ve been to Will Lendrem’s, and he 
wouldn’t promise one mite to come unless I’d tell 
him that you’d be there.” 

^^I’m tired of him,” returned Lestie. 

Well, Jim Van Pike was quite as anxious,” said 
Martha laughing. He said he’d cut Will Lendrem 
out, and Laury wanted to know who was to go home 
with her if he did. But don’t you be afraid, Lestie, 
her pa’s coming too, to take her home. And I’m to 
introduce her to the doctor the first thing. My stars, 
how late it is ! good-by, girls. Come early.” And the 
house door closed after Miss Morris and her stars. 

In a little while after there was loud knocking, 
stamping, talking, hallooing heard outside, something 
like a small army would have made ; and Herbert and 
Paul rushed in like a whirlwind. 

Supper ’most ready ?” called Herbert. 


112 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


I’m ’most starved,” cried Paul. 

Eemember where your hats belong, my sons, and 
that there are ladies in the room,” said Mrs. Brentwell, 
in her gentle way. And the hats were hung on the 
proper nails behind the kitchen door. Supper will 
not be ready for an hour,” she said, but there are 
apples and gingerbread in the cupboard.” Apples and 
gingerbread were a daily programme, and the boys had 
not waited to be reminded of them oefore they made 
their way to the cupboard. Seating themselves by the 
fire they began a hurried recital of their afternoon ad- 
ventures, including a description of Thurston whom 
they had seen. 

“Does he look bashful?” asked Lestie, who was 
greatly troubled on that point. 

“You bet he don’t,” returned Paul, with his mouth 
full. “I can tell you, he’s style.” 

“ Everybody stared at him,” said Herbert. 

“I didn’t,” returned Paul, threateningly. 

“Well, I did.” 

“You were green to do it. I guess he took you for 
a greenhorn, anyhow.” 

“Where did you hear about him, Lestie ?” Herbert 
asked suddenly. She told him of Martha’s visit, the in- 
vitation to the quilting party, and the description of the 
new comer. 

The boys were delighted with the quilting party, 
especially the supper part : Paul declared that it would 
be a “ buster,” while Herbert mildly described it as 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


113 


bully,” but they ridiculed Miss Morris’ description of 
St. James. He’s got his sign up already,” announced 
Herbert, and his first name is Thurston.” 

And he’s been out visiting patients,” added Paul. 

As Hewfield had no alternative but to employ Dr. 
St. James he entered immediately into Dr. Doreann’s 
practice. And though it was not without some fear of 
risk that many employed him, they soon found that he 
equalled if not excelled the old physician in medical 
knowledge, and that practice was all that he required to 
be a physician of the first rank. 

The following day being Sunday Thurston went to 
Presbyterian service, which act the village was well 
aware of two minutes after the service Avas over. 

There had been a great deal of conjecture on the 
subject of his religious vicAvs, and most persons thought 
that he would attend St. Paul’s, as that had been Dr. 
Doreann’s church. So it was not without a slight feel- 
ing of triumph that the Presbyterians of Hewfield saw 
the elegant stranger take his seat among them on thg first 
Sunday after his arrival, thereby showing that it was his 
intention to attend their service. 

Mr. BrentAvell was disappointed ; he had hoped that 
Dr. Doreann’s successor in practice would be his suc- 
cessor in the church. 


CHAPTER X. 


“ Alas ! for the rarity 
Of Christian charity 
Under the sun ! ” 


—Thomas Hood. 


RS. BARKER and Miss Amelia were washing the 



dinner dishes on the day of Mrs. Morris’ quilting 
party. It was growing late, and Kewfield etiquette 
required them to he there at two o’clock ; some went 


earlier. 


The table was laid for supper ; for Silas Thorpe and 
Dr. St. James were to take their tea at home. A few 
moments before two Mrs. Barker knocked at the office 
door. 

Thurston opened it. 

If you’ll step into the kitchen,” she said, leading 
the way, I’ll just show you.” 

She was dressed in a stiff alpaca with a broad linen 
collar fastened by a ponderous brooch made of her hus- 
band’s red hair, her sole ornament. 

She stood by the stove, with the tea-pot in one hand, 
and the lid in the other. The doctor leaned against the 
mantel, half annoyed and half amused. 

I showed Silas,” said the widow, but I don’t 
suppose he’ll remember. See ! I’ve put the tea in. 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


115 


Now, when it gets to be about five o’clock — or a little 
later, according to the time you get hungry — just tell Silas 
to put the kettle on. Fve put the water in ; I was afraid 
he’d get in too much ; and if there is too much in it 
won’t boil under an hour. My Josiah, when he’d fill 
the kettle for me — and there wa’n’t a better man to help 
a woman round the house than he was — he’d get up of 
a morning, and have the fire made and the kettle on 
by the time I’d come down ; and there’s Mis’ Pepper’s 
man, he’d no more do it than he’d fiy — and my Josiah 
was a master hand at making a fire. They do say — but 
I make a point of not believing these sayings that go 
round — but they do say that those that make a smart fire 
have a smart partner, but there’s nothing in it — but my 
Josiah always got the tea-kettle too full ; there has got 
to be just so much in it, and no more. Well, when the 
kettle is boiled just set it on — there. Do you know 
when a kettle is boiled ?” 

do,” returned Thurston, three-quarters annoyed, 
and one-quarter amused. 

‘‘That’s more than my Josiah knew. When it’s 
boiled, take this holder bound with red — not that one — 
in one hand — or tell Silas to — and pour the water into 
the tea-pot up to that mark — there. Then you set it on 
tliis place — here, and stand by until it comes just to a 
boil. Just to a hoil ; remember, ^ a toil. Then 
you take it off quick. Now there’s ’Melie — I wouldn’t 
say a word against her for the world ; we’ve lived to- 
gether as peaceably as two lambs these many years — but 


116 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


’Melie canH make a cup of tea, not what I call a cup of 
tea ; she always lets hers boil, and ruins it.” 

‘^ril be careful.” 

^^It ain’t just the thing, I know,” she went on, ^‘for 
us to he going off and leaving Silas and you to get your 
OAvn tea.” 

I shall make good use of your absence,” returned 
Thurston, ^^and endeayor to get better acquainted 
with him. ” 

It seems most like a miracle that you persuaded 
him to go with you. I don’t know what Mis’ Morris 
and Marthy will say — ” 

Mary Barker,” cried Miss Amelia, coming into the 
room ready to go, ^^do you know that it is after two 
o’clock ? Mis’ Morris’ll think we haven’t any manners 
to go so late ; everybody’ll be there.” 

^^Yes,” cried Mrs. Barker suddenly greatly dis- 
tressed, ^^and I wanted to see Mis’ Wylie’s new hood ; 
I’ve been telling the Doctor about tea. Just fix mv 
shawl a little, ’Melie : I don’t want to put on airs, but if 
Laury Van Pike is there, I don’t want to be all in the 
shade. There — that’s it — thank you. Don’t forget to 
tell Silas to lock the shed door, doctor, nor to put the 
sticks over the sitting-room windows. And be careful 
about the fire. When you put out the light, just send 
Silas back to see if there are any sparks left to set the 
house on fire. I don’t mean to order you, doctor.” 

‘‘I understand.” 

“—But— Oh, there’s ’Melie going without me,” and 


•^AISY BKENTWELL. 


117 


Mrs. Barker hastened off with her mouth wide open 
prepared for the next remark. 

Thurston watched them from his office window as 
they walked up the street. 

''I wonder what Mrs. Wolcot St. James would say 
to this establishment/’ he mused ; Miss Abby might be 
a little less enthusiastic over 'a country physician’s life. 
Well, Miss Abby, I would even like to see your face at 
this moment ; father did know more than I did when 
he said I would be home-sick. And I believe, upon my 
honor, that I would go back to-morrow if it were not 
for that honor, and ^ few remarks Wolcot and Mayne 
would make. And mother — bless her — how glad she 
would be to see me. To-night I shall see Newfield 
together and get acquainted generally. I shall write 
about it to Abby to-morrow ; for I must write to her — 
thanks to Wolcot’s wife.” He put his hands in his 
pocket and whistled an air softly — an air that Miss Abby 
Emerson had sung for him the night before he came away. 

Miss Amelia and her sister-in-law had not committed 
such an unpardonable breach of etiquette as they had 
feared ; only three ladies had arrived before them ; Mrs. 
Grahame, one of the true ladies of Newfield ; Mrs. 
Pepper, a firm friend of Mrs. Barker’s, and Mrs. March 
whom we have already mentioned. 

These were seated in the large sitting-room, where 
two quilts were stretched upon frames. 

Martha hastened to take their things, and laid them 
upon the bed in the little room adjoining. 


118 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


thought we’d be lafce/’ spoke Mrs. Barker, 
seating herself. 

You air,” returned Mrs. Morris. 

We got the doctor and Silas their tea before we 
came,” explained Miss Amelia. 

Are they coming ? ” inquired Martha, carefully 
closing the bed-room door as she came out. 

Oh, yes,” said Miss Amelia. 

Silas, too ?” cried Martha ; ^^well, I never.” 

“ It took the doctor to bring him,” said Mrs. Barker. 
Then followed a long account, not only of the doctor’s 
manner of bringing Silas, but a complete description of 
Thurston St. J ames for the benefit of those ladies who 
had not yet seen him. Before it was finished the room 
was filled, and they had taken their seats around the 
quilting-frame where Mrs. Barker found herseK seated 
by Mrs. Pepper. 

“You weren’t around to Deacon Calfort’s last 
night,” spoke the latter in a low tone. 

“ No ; I didn’t hear of a meeting there.” 

“ There wasn’t a meeting. A few neighbors dropped 
in and we had it all out.” 

“ What out ? ” 

“We got to talking about things in general,” said 
Mrs. Pepper mysteriously. “The Deacon he’s not 
going to stand things any more as he has lately. You 
see Mis’ Calfort went up to Mis’ Borne’s yesterday, and 
was insulted.” 

“ You don’t say ! How ?” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


119 


I’m telling yon. She knocked at the front door, 
and one of the young ones opened it. ^ Is your ’ma in ? ’ 
says Mis’ Calfort. ^ Yes, ma’am,’ says the child, hold- 
ing the door half shut. ^ What’s she doing ? ’ asks Mis’ 
Calfort. ^ She’s washing,’ says the child. ^ Then, I’ll 
go right in where she is,’ says Mis’ Calfort ; for you 
know she is alwa’s as polite and obliging as any lady 
can he. ‘ She needn’t dress to see me,’ says she. And 
at that the girl, — it was Lucy — opened the door and let 
her in ; hut she says as impudent as you please, ‘ ’Ma 
said that if it was anybody to see her I was to take ’em 
in the parlor ; she don’t want anybody to come out 
where she’s washing.’ ^Well, I ain’t anybody,’ says 
Mis’ Calfort ; ^she needn’t mind me.’ ^ Yes, she will,’ 
says Lucy; ^walk into the parlor.’ So Mis’ Calfort 
couldn’t do less than go into the parlor and swallow the 
insult. If you haven’t got a right to go into your min- 
ister’s kitchen I’d like to know whose kitchen you can 
go in — that’s what I want to know. And — what do you 
think ? ” Mrs. Pepper’s voice sank lower and grew 
more mysterious. • 

Do tell,” cried the widow, eagerly. 

Mis’ Calfort looked at the clock when she went in ; 
and Mis’ Borne didnH come into that parlor for five 
whole minutes. 

I want to know !” cried Mrs. Barker. 

^^No,” continued Mrs. Pepper, not for five whole 
minutes. Now, is it manners to leave company to en- 
tertain themselves for five minutes ? If things are 


120 


DAISY BRElfTWELL. 


coming to sucli a pass it’s time something was done,” 
Mrs. Pepper nodded significantly. When it comes to 
having the wife af one of our deacons insulted when she 
calls on the minister’s folks it has got to be stopped. 
Deacon Lawson had droj^ped in ; Mis’ Grimes and 
Laviny were there, and Mr. Church, so we had quite a 
meeting. And the hash is all to be settled next Monday 
night at the church-meeting. There’s some folks, who 
haye just moved from Fairhope to be taken in then, 
and Saray Luce is to give in her experience. You and 
’Melie must be sure to come ; and you’re to vote against 
having the deacon’s wife insulted.” 

“ Are they going to have that up ? ” asked Mrs. Bar- 
ker, in great astonishment. 

Something pretty near like it. But that ain’t all,” 
she went on. When Mis’ Calf or t was there she smelt 
the clothes burning on the stove. Did you ever hear of 
such shiftlessness ? ” 

I never did ; still I always knew that Mis’ Borne 
was shiftless. I was there not long ago, and I went 
right into the kitchen, whether or no. I went round to 
the back door and knocked, and there wasn’t any use in 
trying to keep me out. Little Willie opened the door, 
and in I walked. Mis’ Borne she sat by the fire hold- 
ing the baby and giving it milk to drink. And in the 
corner sat Edgarton — who ever heard of a Christian 
child having such a name ? — and litter enough he was 
making, cutting and slashing with a pair o’ shears that 
he might have run into his eyes at any time. And such 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


121 


a looking room I never did see before. ^ Ob, Mis’ Bar- 
ker,’ says Mis’ Borne, rising up, ^ I’m glad to see you. 
Will you walk into the parlor ?’ And never one word 
did she say about the room or her dress or the way the 
children looked. She never made any excuse for any- 
thing. You needn’t tell me that she’s shiftless ; haven’t 
I known it this long time and never said a word about 
it ? I ain’t the one to make mischief. Now, there’s 
’Melie, she’s awful tender-hearted, and she’s alwa’s saying, 
' Poor creature, she has so much to do with those nine 
little children,’ and she’ll wonder that she gets through 
with it all. My mother raised ten, and she wasn’t shift- 
less and untidy I can tell you.” 

^‘My mother had twelve,” rejoined Mrs. Pepper; 
and we were made to work, too ; she didn’t believe in 
fooling. The fact is — in plain words. Mis’ Barker — Mis’ 
Borne ain’t over fond of work of any kind. Did you see 
Mr. Borne’s vest, on Sunday ? ” 

^^No.” 

He kept his coat buttoned up pretty tight over it ; 
but when we were standing down by the stove he wanted 
a paper something out of his breast pocket and he 
opened his coat, and then I see that his vest was all torn. 
It wasn’t fit to w^ear. Don’t tell me,” (shaking her head 
grimly) ^^his wife could have mended it if she had 
wanted to do so, but she didn’t. She wasn’t even at 
meeting Sunday night ; and that is three Sunday nights 
running that she has stayed away. What kind of an 
example is that for a pastor’s wife to set to a flock ? 

6 


120 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


coming to sucli a pass it’s time something was done/’ 
Mrs. Pepper nodded significantly. When it comes to 
having the wife of one of our deacons insulted when she 
calls on the minister’s folks it has got to be stopped. 
Deacon Lawson had droj)ped in ; Mis’ Grimes and 
Laviny were there, and Mr. Church, so we had quite a 
meeting. And the hash is all to be settled next Monday 
night at the church-meeting. There’s some folks, who 
haye just moved from Fairhope to be taken in then, 
and Saray Luce is to give in her experience. You and 
’Melie must be sure to come ; and you’re to vote against 
having the deacon’s wife insulted.” 

Are they going to have that up ?” asked Mrs. Bar- 
ker, in great astonishment. 

Something pretty near like it. But that ain’t all,” 
she went on. ‘‘ When Mis’ Calfort was there she smelt 
the clothes burning on the stove. Did you ever hear of 
such shiftlessness ? ” 

I never did j still I always knew that Mis’ Borne 
was shiftless. I was there not long ago, and I went 
right into the kitchen, whether or no. I went round to 
the hack door and knocked, and there wasn’t any use in 
trying to keep me out. Little Willie opened the door, 
and in I walked. Mis’ Borne she sat by the fire hold- 
ing the baby and giving it milk to drink. And in the 
corner sat Edgarton — who ever heard of a Christian 
child having such a name ? — and litter enough he was 
making, cutting and slashing with a pair o’ shears that 
he might have run into his eyes at any time. And such 


DAISY BREJTTWELL. 


121 


a looking room I never did see before. ‘ Ob, Mis’ Bar- 
ker,’ says Mis’ Borne, rising up, ^ I’m glad to see you. 
Will you walk into the parlor ?’ And never one word 
did she say about the room or her dress or the way the 
children looked. She never made any excuse for any- 
thing. You needn’t tell me that she’s shiftless ; haven’t 
I known it this long time and never said a word about 
it ? I ain’t the one to make mischief. Now, there’s 
’Melie, she’s awful tender-hearted, and she’s alwa’s saying, 
^ Poor creature, she has so much to do with those nine 
little children,’ and she’ll wonder that she gets through 
with it all. My mother raised ten, and she wasn’t shift- 
less and untidy I can tell you.” 

My mother had twelve,” rejoined Mrs. Pepper ; 
and we were made to work, too ; she didn’t believe in 
fooling. The fact is — in plain words. Mis’ Barker — Mis’ 
Borne ain’t over fond of work of any kind. Did you see 
Mr. Borne’s vest, on Sunday ? ” 

^^No.” 

He kept his coat buttoned up pretty tight over it ; 
but when we were standing down by the stove he wanted 
a paper di* something out of his breast pocket and he 
opened his coat, and then I see that his vest was all torn. 
It wasn’t fit to wear. Don’t tell me,” (shaking her head 
grimly) ‘^his wife could have mended it if she had 
wanted to do so, but she didn’t. She wasn’t even at 
meeting Sunday night ; and that is three Sunday nights 
running that she has stayed away. What kind of an 
example is that for a pastor’s wife to set to a flock ? 

6 


122 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


The truth is, Mis’ Barker, Mis’ Borne ain’t any too re- I 
ligious.” I 

That’s so,” returned the widow : only Sunday I 
before last I went around there to talk oyer the sermon I 
with Mr. Borne ; there were some things in it that I i 
didn’t just like, and I wanted to talk about ’em and ' 
have ’em settled. ’Melie she didn’t want me to go : j 
she’d swallow anything. Well, I’m one o’ the most . 
peaceful creatures you ever see, but when it comes to . 
your parson preaching bad doctrines from the pulpit, I ' 
believe iu having it out with him.” 

That’s so,” responded Mrs. Pepper. 

So I put on my bonnet, and went over. They 
were all sitting round the study fire. Mr. Borne was | 
reading the Examiner, and Mis’ Borne was reading, and [S 
the children were looking at pictures— ^very one of ii:' 
them, from the baby up. There wasnH one reading the ' 
Biiie:^ ' ; 

I want to know,” cried Mrs. Pepper, holding up 
both hands, scissors, thimble, needle and thread included. 
“Not one reading the Bible, and on Sunday afternoon ! 
Every one of imy children read it all dd^j^ long on 
Sunday ; they know they’ve got to, and they do it. I 
tell you. Mis’ Barker, bring up a child in the way he 
should go, and when he’s old he won’t depart from it. 
Any one can see how Mis’ Borne has been brought up.” 

Oh, my stars ! ” cried Martha Morris, at the top of , 
her voice, ^^if here ain’t Mis’ Brentwell at last,” run- 
ning to meet her. Why where’s Daisy and the girls ? 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


123 • 


Oh, here are Leslie and Christie. Let me take your 
things.” 

Mrs. Morris hurried forward. 

Bring the big rocking-chair out for Mis’ Brentwell, 
Marthy. How are Mr. Brentwell and the boys ? ” 

Where’s Daisy ? ” again asked Martha, when Mrs. 
Brentwell’s wrappings were removed, and she was 
seated in the best parlor chair by the fire. 

She will be here jiresently, with Horatio.” A loud 
knock was heard at the door at that moment ; Miss 
Martha hastened to answer it, and Miss Orissy Wells 
walked in. 

Having so frequently heard this lady alluded to as the 
chief gossip of Hewfield, the reader has doubtless im- 
agined a tall, thin, angular lady, with weak grey eyes, and 
a few scanty hairs twisted in a knot at the back of her 
head ; a long sharp nose that was forever prying into 
what did not concern it, glasses set upon this nose, and 
over and under which the weak, watery eyes peered with 
a searching gaze. It may also have been thought that 
she wore mitts to church, and that on such occasions she 
never bent her fingers, lest the aforesaid mitts should 
come to an untimely end by the process of wearing out. 
But this was not Miss Crissy’s description. She was 
neither thin nor stout, neither tall nor short, angular nor 
buxom. Her eyes were not of any particular color, her 
nose was neither long nor short, nor did it appear to aid 
the tongue in its investigations after truth. She looked 
neither over nor under her glasses, but through them ; 


124 


DAISY BKEITTWELL. 


nor did she wear mitts ; in the winter her hands were 
encased in stont mittens knit by the sister with whom 
she lived, and in the summer she wore no gloves at all. 
In short she was one of those persons whom we some- 
times see, who so closely resemble the majority of man- 
kind that they seem to have no settled look of their 
own, and whose features we cannot learn until we have 
seen them at least a dozen times. 


CHAPTEE XI. 


“ That old miracle— love-at-first-sight— needs no explanations. The heart 
reads aright its destiny sometimes.” — Owen Meredith. 

rriHE doctor and Silas Thorpe grew quite confidential 
over their bachelor tea. Thurston talked of his 
friends and his old home, and Silas talked of his pros- 
pects in life and of his one draw-back to pleasure — his 
bashfulness. 

You cannot imagii ^^^h^ I suffer from it,” he said. 
I think I understand your feelings, though I never 
suffered from it. Allow me as your physician to pre- 
scribe for you. It may be a bitter dose, but you must 
take it.” 

‘‘What is it?” 

“It is this : accept every invitation to go out, and 
make calls when you are invited to do so.” -k 

“ I never can do that.” 

“ Well think of it. You are going out to-night, and 
to-morrow I shall expect a note of thanks from you for 
being the means of your going.” 

“If I don’t put an end to my life before we reach 
Mrs. Morris’ door. I am not at all conversant with the 
rules of etiquette,” he continued ; “ and that is one rea- 
son why I shun society. A month or so ago I bought a 


126 


DAISY BKEI^-TWELL. 


book on the subject ; and learned it almost by heart, but 
it does me no good ; I can’t follow out the rules at all.” 

Dr. St. James requested to see- the book, and when 
it was brought he took it for his text, delivering a 
lecture that lasted until they reached Mrs. Morris’ house. 
Silas had profited hy all his new friend had said to him, 
and felt equal to anything — until the door was opened, 
and Miss Morris stood smiling there. 

She was dressed in a bright green alpaca, with im- 
mense hoops, and a number of large pink bows on her 
smooth hair and down the bosom of her ^ess. 

Oh my stars ! ” was her greeting, ^^how late you 
are 1 Everybody is here.” 

Mr. Thorpe and I became so interested in the sub- 
ject we were discussing that the time went before we 
were aware of it,” said the doctor. 

Silas, meanwhile, had summoned courage to say that 
it was a pleasant evening, but was quite disconcerted by 
Martha bringing her stars to witness that every one who 
had thus far arrived had made the same remark ; ^she 
almost knew it by this time ! The doctor bit his lips 
with vexation, and felt that half of his evening’s wotk 
was undone. 

They were ushered into the sitting-room, from whidi 
all signs of the quilting had long been removed. Mrs.^ 
Morris met them at the door, shaking hands warmly 
with Silas, and greeting the doctor in a hearty manner 
when Silas introduced him. 

Every eye in the room was turned upon the stranger, 


% 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


127 


when Mrs. Morris, in true country fashion, presented 
him to those assembled, by announcing, — ^^Dr. St. 
James, our new physician.” If Thurston could have 
known how handsome, how grand and manly he looked, 
as he bowed, a little conceit would have been pardon- 
able. A number of the gentlemen came up to him, and 
introduced themselves. 

In the meantime Horatio Brentwell had taken Silas 
to where his sisters sat and introduced him to them, 
giving him a chair near Christie and Daisy. Lestie was 
flirting with Will Lendrem and Jim Van Pike, two 
young gentlemen of twenty — or less. 

Daisy began talking with Silas in her low, sweet 
tones, setting him in a few moments entirely at ease. 
It did not take any one a great length of time to become 
acquainted with her ; but he glanced from time to time 
toward Christie, who was silent, and wondered if he 
would ever have the courage to address a remark to her. 
By degrees, however, she was drawn into the circle, and 
the four were soon conversing together as though Silas 
had known them for years. 

Miss Martha Morris considered it her duty to enter- 
tain the doctor as he was a stranger, and this duty she 
performed with a religious determination. She placed a 
chair for him in the middle of the room and seated herself 
beside him. But she was not long allowed the pleasure, or 
task, of doing so alone ; a bent-up old man approached. 

My name is Nichols,” he said, holding out a with- 
ered hand. I hear that you are from Philadelphy.” 


128 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


Thurston placed him a chair. I am proud to say 
that I am from Philadelphia/’ he returned as he greeted ^ 
him. 

“Hey?” cried the old man holding his hand be- 
hind his ear, “ you ain’t proud ! I didn’t s’pose you 
was, or I wouldn’t ’ave come to speak to you. You 
don’t look like none o’ them stuck up jack-a-napes what 
comes up from York sometimes.” 

“ He’s deaf as a post,” explained Martha. 

“ I said,” continued Thurston, speaking very loud, 

“ that I was proud to say that Philadelphia is my home.” 

“ Don’t he proud, young man. Don’t he proud o’ 
nothin’,” said Mr. Hichols, in the loud tone generally ] 
used by deaf persons, catching about half of the doctor’s 
remark. “ Don’t he proud ; for pride alius has a 
fall.” 

The persons in that immediate vicinity now became 
very much interested in this conversation, and their own 
was suspended in consequence to Thurston’s great an- 
noyance and Martha’s amusement. 

“Oh, my stars!” cried that young lady, “there’s- 
no use in your trying to talk to him ; he can’t hear half ; 
a word.” 

“AYhat do you say, Marthy Morris?” bawled the 
old man. Martha pointed her forefinger toward Dr. St. 

J ames to indicate that she had addressed him alone. 

Thurston ventured to remark, at this, that it was a 
pleasant gathering. Mr. Nichols looked at him for a . 
moment and cried in a loud tone, “You’ve a mighty 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


129 


weak Yoice for a young doctor. Do they train ’em so in 
the city now-a-days ? ” 

Martha giggled, and cried, Oh my stars ! ” which 
made Mr. Nichols eye her with suspicion. Thurston, in 
despair, was beginning to wonder if this were a second 
edition of the old man of the sea, when a tall, fine-look- 
ing gentleman came up to him. 

^^Dr. ’St. James, I believe,” he said, am the Kev. 
Mr. Brentwell, of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in this 
village.” 

“Our minister,” added Martha. 

Thurston shook hands with our minister, expressing 
his pleasure at the meeting. 

Mr. Brentwell seated himself beside him, and en- 
tered into an interesting conversation — so interesting 
indeed that a half an hour or more had elapsed before 
one thought of Silas entered Thurston’s mind. He 
looked quickly around the room, half expecting to see 
him standing alone in some corner, perhaps with his 
thumbs in his mouth. Great was his surprise on beliold- 
ing him seated near two young ladies, earnestly and 
apparently fearlessly conversing with them. A young 
man was seated by him evidently encouraging him at 
every opportunity. 

Thurston’s eyes lingered on Daisy’s face. He 
thought he had never seen such a strangely fascinating 
face before — he could not call it beautiful. He had seen 
many handsome faces in his life, but none that ever 
attracted him as did hers. He had attained the age of 


130 


DAISY BKEiq^TWELL. 


twenty-five without having ever loved any woman. His 
parents and brothers had determined long ago that he 
should some day marry Miss Abhy Emerson, an orphan 
cousin of his eldest brother’s wife ; and the young lady 
herself stood ready to give her blushing consent. So he 
had regarded himself half bound to her, though he had 
given her no cause to think so from his conduct to her, 
or by his words. But to-night, far away from Miss 
Emerson, making use of the liberty he had craved for 
a little longer, he w'-as looking on Daisy’s face and bless- 
ing his good fortune that he was not bound to Miss Abby 
for life. Every one had decided that Daisy was looking 
unusually well that night. She wore a bright maroon 
colored merino, her hair hung in natural curls, which 
reached far below her slender w'aist and were looped 
back from her softly fiushed face'; and a little red gera- 
nium fastened among the curls on either side. 

The doctor heard Mr. Brentwell speaking as in a 
dream ; then becoming conscious of his apparent rude- 
ness, he hastened to explain that Silas had accompanied 
him, and that he had forgotten him until that moment. 

“ I see that he is among friends, however,” he added. 
‘MVho is that gentlemanly-looking young man who 
appears to be so interested in him ?” The doctor asked 
this question with the faint hope that Mr. Brentwell 
would tell not only the name of the young man, but 
give the name and history of every one of the group, 
enlarging upon the history of the interesting young 
lady. But he simply replied, ‘‘He is my oldest son. 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


131 


I believe that he has taken quite an interest in Silas 
Thorpe. I am glad to find that you have also, for he is 
a fine young man, and living in the same house with 
him you wilf have a good influence over him, and may 
be able to help him overcome his great timidity.’’ 

Here he was interrupted, just as he might have told 
the histories. A man of a farmer’s appearance took the 
chair Mr. Hichols had vacated a few moments before. 
Mr. Brentwell introduced him as Mr. Johnson. 

How air you, sir ?” he said, shaking the doctor’s 
hand until his shoulder ached ; I’m glad, for one, that 
you’ve come to Hewfield. How do you like our little 
town ? ” 

I think I shall like it very much, when I become 
more acquainted with it,” replied Dr. St. James. 

So you’re from Philadelphy ? ” 

That is my native city.” 

‘‘I’ve been agoin’ there some time; I’ve got a 
brother there. I s’pose you know him. He keeps a 
store on Germantown road — a large grocery store, noth- 
ing else but groceries. I believe they don’t have dry 
goods mixed in in them city stores. So I hear, any how. 
I s’pose you know my brother ? ” the farmer continued, 
anxiously. 

“ I may have that pleasure. What is his name ? ” 

“ Johnson — William Johnson,” returned the country-- 
man earnestly, looking eagerly into the doctor’s eyes. 

“The name sounds familiar,” said Dr. St. James, 
doubtfully. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


ia-1 

Barker’s — my father and eldest brother are bankers, the 
younger brother is a lawyer.” 

The doctor paused for breath. Mr. Green stared at 
him until his eyes seemed to be starting from their 
sockets. He was disappointed as well as astonished ; for 
he had anticipated ^Hinked sweetness long drawn out,” 
and here it was given him in one lump. Thurston, after 
the first excitement was over, sat silent, and stared also, 
forgetful of the world. The impressive silence lasted 
for full one minute, when the doctor recovered himself, 
and graciously said, by the way of conciliation, I hope 
your wife and children are here ; I should like to meet 
them.” 

Mr. Green’s eyes slowly went back into their sockets, 
his elbow came out of his knee — where it had certainly 
made an indenture, and he sat erect. “ I have no 
wife,” he replied, still staring ; “ I never Avas married.” 

Thurston silently, and with indignation for the wasted 
time, arose, and made his way to the group he had 
watched with such longing eyes. 

But he found to his great disappointment, when he 
joined them, that the young lady whose acquaintance he 
desired to make had left them ; she was sitting a little 
further away, talking to some neglected old ladies. 

Silas welcomed him with a smile as he took a vacant 
chair, and introduced him to Christie, Lestie, and Hora- 
tio and Lestie’s two youthful admirers. Van Pike and 
Lendrem. 

'' I have been trying for some time past to join you,” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


135 


said Thurston to Christie, whom he mistook to be the 
eldest, and have just succeeded.’’ 

‘‘ You must expect that everyone will want an intro- 
duction to you to-night,” she returned, smiling; ‘^you 
are quite the lion.” 

‘^Ah ? I was not aware I was so honored, hut I 
think I have been introduced to every one in the 
room.” 

“ Every one, indeed ! ” said Lestie, who had drawn 
near to the fascinating stranger. 

‘‘I was wrong,” he returned, glancing toward Daisy. 

There are a few whom I’ve not yet met.” 

‘‘You will soon enough,” said Horatio (Thurston 
hoped he would.) “ Here, sir,” he added, taking Her- 
bert’s hand, “ this is my brother Herbert.” 

Thurston shook hands with the boy, appearing as 
gratified as Herbert himself at the introduction. 

Miss Morris, who had been absent from that corner 
a short time, now returned, accompanied by a gayly- 
clad young lady, whom she presented to Dr. St. James 
as Miss Van Pike. Herbert and Paul were despatched 
for more chairs, and they joined the group. 

“Oh, my stars,” cried Martha, when they were 
seated, “ ain’t this nice ! ” 

“ Oh, my moons,” cried Paul, leaning over Lestie’s 
chair, to her great annoyance, “ ain’t this bully ! ” 

“ Paul, Paul,” cried his sisters in a breath. 

“I’m your man,” responded Paul, taking a blue 
ribbon bow from Lestie’s hair with his teeth, and giving 


136 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


it slyly to young Van Pike, who pinned it exultingly on 
his vest front. 

My ribbon ! ” cried Lestie. Paul what do you 
mean ? Give it back to me Jim, it is all the blue ribbon 
I own.” 

You won’t be able to say that this time to-mor- 
row,-^ returned Jim ; you shall have a whole piece to 
pay for it.” Lendrem made a silent vow to give her Uuo 
pieces of the broadest, brightest blue ribbon he could 
find in Newfield. 

Lestie laughed, and thanked Jim. 

had a very pleasant journey with your father 
last week in the cold,” the doctor said to Miss Van Pike. 
He felt that to be a very poor remark, but he must as a 
gentleman say something, and he had long since ex- 
hausted all original observations. 

Papa enjoyed it, I’m sure,” lisped Miss Van Pike, 
blushing violently and toying with the bracelet on her 
wrist, though it was cold, I’m sure.” 

Oh, my stars, wasn’t it cold ! ” said Martha, who 
felt it her duty to aid the guests in their efforts at con- 
versation. 

Oh, my moons, it was ! ” said Paul. 

Paul, do stop,” said Lestie, frowning. ^ 

'^I stand corrected. Lest,” returned Paul, smiling 
graciously : ‘‘ there ain’t but one moon, I know. Oh, 
my moon ! Martha.” 

Martha giggled, and Miss Van Pike tittered ; Thurs- 
ton laughed, and the sisters, notwithstanding their dis- 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


137 


i:)leasure, followed his example : Horatio tried to frown ; 
but it all ended in such a hearty roar of laughter that 
every one turned and looked at them. 

Paul clapped his hands, and told Martha familiarly 
that ‘‘it took them to do it.” At which Martha ejac- 
ulated chokingly. “ Oh, my stars, ain’t you a boy !” ’ 

Paul, jumping on and off of the round of Lestie’s 
chair, replied : “ Oh, my moon, I bet I am ! ” 

The busy laughing and talking was going gayly on, 
when there came summons to the supper which had 
been laid in the kitchen. 

Thurston gave his arm to Miss Van Pike, and fol- 
lowed Will Lendrem, who had possessed himself of 
Lestie, into that room. 

When they were all seated around the bounteous 
board, Thurston’s eye turned in search of the fair un- 
known. She was seated at the opposite side of the table, 
a little below, with Horatio. “ And so that is it, is it ? ” 
he said to himself, judging that Horatio was an admirer 
of hers. “Well, Miss Abbie, you may set the day now, 
and I will be satisfied.” Yet he cast frequent glances 
down the table. “ She has a terrible cough,” he thought 
at length, “ and I might cure it if they called on me.” 

Miss Van Pike did not prove to be a very entertain* 
ing companion ; she said little ; but that little she did 
say she was “ sure ” of — which every one is not. 

When the supper was over the doctor conducted her 
back to the sitting-room, and finding her a pleasant 
seat excused himself, going in search of Mr. Brentwell, 


138 


DAISY BREi^TWELL. 


with whom he had become greatly pleased. He found 
him conversing with Mr. Oalfort. 

^‘Well,” said the lawyer when Mr. Brentwell had 
introduced them, so we have a physician of our own 
again. How do you like Newfield ?” 

^‘1 think the village is very pretty.” 

But the people ? ” said Mr. Oalfort, practically, 
have met some whom I’ve liked very much,” said 
the doctor, evasively. 

‘^Have you met Mr. Green ? ” 

Thurston replied that he had. 

^^Fine man,” said Mr. Oalfort, ^^One of our first 
men ; what you would call a solid man.” 

''Understands what he is about,” suggested the 
doctor. 

" Precisely,” responded the lawyer, " understands 
what he is about thoroughly.” 

" So I judged,” said St. James, smiling quietly. 

The party broke up soon after ; for FTewfield re- 
tired early. 

" I shall soon call upon you,” Mr. Brentwell said to 
Thurston as they shook hands. 

" I shall be glad to receive you,” said the doctor 
heartily. " I am at Miss Barker’s.” 

Some one touched him on the shoulder at that 
moment, and turning, he saw Silas. 

"Hang it!” said that youth, when he was certain 
no one overheard ; "I’ve been trying all the evening to 
think of the form that etiquette book gave for asking 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


139 


permission of a lady to accompany her home, and I 
can’t remember it ; it is so long. What shall I say ? ” 

Thurston laughed. 

‘^So much for your book. What shall you say? 
The fewest words possible.” He gave a form. 

That is better than any book,” Silas said ; but I 
never shall have courage to say it.” 

^‘Yes you will,” said Thurston encouragingly; 
^^you have done well to-night.” 

They separated. Silas went back to Christie, and 
astonished her by repeating the given words : it was 
more than she had hoped for. She accepted his atten- 
tions in a most charming manner, and fifteen minutes 
afterwards Silas was walking among the stars toward 
the rectory with Christie on his arm. What a short 
walk it was ! They arrived at Christie’s home just a 
hundred years too soon, but they arrived there never- 
theless, and Silas went back alone with only the remem- 
brance of a happy evening. 

Thurston spent the next few minutes after he parted 
from Silas in searching for Mrs. Barker and Miss Ame- 
lia. He found them, at length, seated in the parlor in 
the midst of a group of old ladies, and with them 
he sat down. Mrs. Barker proudly introduced their 
boarder, and the doctor shook all the shrivelled old 
hands he could find. 

So you’re the new doctor,” said one old lady, who 
afterwards proved to be Mr. Hichol’s wife. How do 
you like Newfield ? ” 


140 


DAISY BKEi^TWELL. 


^'Very well,” returned Thurston, calculating the 
cost of a placard to announce that fact to the inquiring 
anxious villagers. 

‘‘I believe he does,” said Mrs. Barker; ^^he appears 
so chirp all o’ the time, and hasn’t been the least bit 
home-sick.” 

Thurston smiled, but he thought of a face far away, 
bordered with white curls, and he longed with a boyish 
longing to see it then. 


m 


CHAPTER XIL 

“ I love the Church— the holy Church, 

The Saviour’s spotless bride ; 

And oh, I love her palaces 
Through all the world so wide.” 

—Bishop Coxe. 

r'PlHURSTOH dreamt of angels in maroon with black 
-L curls and glittering wings that night ; and dreamt 
too that Miss Abbie Emerson would not allow him to be 
introduced to any one of them, advising him to return 
to Philadelphia if he wanted to see a true angel. He 
awoke vowing he never would. 

Silas did not sleep ; so no dreams visited his pillow. 
When he first retired he was in a state bordering on 
bliss, thinking over every word that Christie had 
spoken ; but when he thought of his own clumsy replies, 
he grew heartsick, and. the more he thought of them the 
worse they seemed to him : he wondered how she had 
tolerated his presence, and thought how entirely unself- 
ish she must have been ever to have allowed him to 
accompany her home. Oh, why had he not said this or 
that, instead of what he had said ? How much better 
it would have sounded ! By the time morning dawned, 
he so regretted his rash conduct and silly words that 
he vowed never to behold Christie BrentwelFs face again, 
and felt certain that she would be well pleased if she 
knew of that resolve. 


142 


DAISY BREIITWELL. 


Lestie spent the greater part of the next day in 
describing to Daisy the new doctor’s charms, repeating 
at intervals of five minutes, Oh, you ought to have 
been introduced to him ! ” Christie and Horatio joined 
in the chorus as she sung his praises, and occasionally 
Mr. Brentwell came in with a solo. The boys indicated 
their approval of him in a few but highly expressive 
words, which are to be found only in boy-dialect. As 
neither Mrs. Brentwell nor Daisy had made his acquaint- 
ance they were the audience. 

Miss Crissy Wells had gone to the quilting with the 
fixed determination of becoming acquainted with Dr. 
St. James, and inquiring after a third cousin, who — it 
had been reported — had moved to Philadelphia some 
years before ; she did not believe the report, but she felt 
quite certain that lie would know. But her courage had 
failed her when the moment arrived ; she dared not 
approach the distinguished stranger. But curiosity 
overcame her fear, and on the following Friday after- 
noon she started to call on Mrs. Barker and Miss Ame- 
lia, and see the doctor if possible. 

Fortune favors the brave; Thurston was not only 
at home, but was in the sitting-room with the ladies. 

Mrs. Barker admitted her, and gave her an exceed- 
ingly formal introduction to the doctor. Then the widow 
began the conversation, and kept it up unaided, until 
Miss Crissy gaining courage ventured her first remark. 

“ How do you like Newfield ? ” she earnestly inquired 
of the doctor. 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


143 


like it,” lie said smilingly 
How long have you been here ? ” 
came a week ago to-day.” 
hear that you live in Philadelphy.” 
did ; but I consider Newfield my home now.” 

I heard that a cousin of my mother’s,” she went on, 
‘Hi as moved to Philadelphy. Is it so ?” 

“ I really cannot say.” 

“I thought you would know her,” said Miss Crissy, 
greatly disappointed. 

“What is her name ?” Thurston asked, regretting 
that the Directory of that city was not in his library. 

“Carwell,” returned Miss Crissy, with hope. 

“ I am not acquainted with any one by that name,” 
acknowledged Thurston. 

“I thought you must know Ann Carwell ! ” 

“Know her!” cried Mrs. Barker; “why he don’t 
even know my daughter Jessie.” 

“Well, I never I” said Miss Crissy, “I reckon you 
don’t go out much to home.” 

“ A great deal/’ replied Dr. St. James, both amused 
and vexed; “I have a large circle of acquaintances in 
I the city.” 

“You don’t say I and you don’t know my third 
I cousin, Ann Carwell ?” 

! Thurston, with “ Mr. Wm. Johnson ” yet on his con- 
|- science, could only reply in the negative. Fortunately 
I there was a call at the office door for him at that moment ; 
some one was ill — and he thankfully hastened away. 


144 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


Miss Wells remained some time longer both hearing 
and repeating news. At length, when every one in New- 
field had been spoken of— some merely noticed, and 
others receiving more lengthened attention and criti- 
cism, she took her departure. 

She had been gone but a few moments when a loud 
knock sounded at the office door. 

Who’s dead now ? ” cried Mrs. Barker. Miss Amelia 
hastened to open it. It was Mr. Brentwell. He had 
called to see the doctor, and declining to enter the sit- 
ting-room, he seated himself in the office to await his 
return. Miss Amelia closed the connecting door, and 
the clergyman with true village curiosity surveyed the 
furniture of the apartment. Mrs. St. James had pur- 
chased the greater part of this, and sent it to Hewfield 
without her son’s knowledge. It had arrived there the 
day after he did — to his great surprise and delight too, 
when he found what furniture the village store afforded. 

The doctor had visited his patient, and taken a short 
walk through the village, hoping to see the unknown 
lady, and was rewarded for his pains by meeting her 
face to face ; and not only that, an obliging gust of 
wind had come rushing up the street at that moment, 
and laid her veil low at his feet. So he had had the 
great pleasure of picking it up and presenting it to her 
with one of his elegant bows. And she had smiled her 
sweetest smile as she thanked him. 

He was surprised and pleased to find Mr. Brentwell 
seated in his office, on his return. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


145 


I am glad,” lie said as he greeted him, that you 
have called at such an early hour. You have been en- 
tertaining yourself in my absence I see,” referring to a 
medical work the clergyman held in his hand. 

Yes ; and I was really interested.” 

‘^It is a most valuable work,” said Dr. St. James. 

There are five volumes in the set.” He brought 
them from the shelves and laid them on the table. 

A. recent publication?” Mr. Brentwell said, ex- 
amining them. 

Quite recent.” 

We are very much behind the times in everything 
in Newfield I own ; but I had no idea how very far we. 
were behind in medicine until I read that work this 
afternoon. Dr. Doreann was a very skilful physician, 
but ” — he paused. 

The doctor went on, But he was a very old gentle- 
man — over seventy-six. He probably studied over fifty 
years ago. Medical science at that time and to-day are 
two different things ; there are constant discoveries in 
drugs, and new inventions in surgical instruments. Dr. 
Doreann belonged to the same school that I do, hut I find 
that my treatment of some cases is so very different from 
his that there are persons who have no faith in my medi- 
cal knowledge, thinking it all ignorance on my part.” 

believe,” said Mr. Brentwell, ^^that Hewfield 
would have swallowed any imaginable dose he could 
have prepared for them. He attended them for half 
a century ; he has cured — or killed — grandparents, 

. 1 


146 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


parents, and children. So in advancing new theories 
you have a great deal to contend with.’’ 

^^Nevertheless I shall advance them, for to tell the 
truth I know very little of those last century prescrip- 
tions and remedies, nor would any other phj^sician whom 
they could have gotten here. I had anticipated hearing 
objections to my being unmarried however ; for it is 
generally the first complaint.” 

^^Dr. Doreann was never married. Perhaps that 
accounts for it.” 

Indeed ! I am surprised to hear that. How came 
Newfield to tolerate medical celibacy ?” 

“ They had no control over the doctor. He was once 
to have been married to a lady in Fairhope, but the 
engagement was broken. He was high, spirited and 
jealous : she was something of a flirt : some one made 
mischief between them, and there it ended.” 

There was a low knock on the door leading into the 
sitting-room at that moment. Thurston arose and 
opened it. Mrs. Barker’s withered face appeared. 

‘‘No, I can’t come in,” she said in reply to the doc- 
tor’s invitation to do so. “I just come to ask after Daisy. 
I haven’t seen her in a long time. ’Melie said that she 
was at Mis’ Morris’ quilting on Tuesday, but there was 
so many folks there that I did not see her. Don’t she 
go out much nowadays ? ” 

“She was to take a short walk to-day,” returned Mr. 
Brentwell ; “but she seldom goes out.” 

“ Well, she ain’t any worse ?” 




-I 


! 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


147 


*’ Oh, no worse.” 

Take heart then ; here’s the new doctor now ; he’ll 
soon have her well again. I just wanted to ask about 
her — that’s all, good bye,” and the door closed after her. 

‘'Is one of your family ill ?” St. James asked as he 
resumed his seat. 

“My eldest daughter is delicate: we fear con- 
sumption.” 

“Allow me to offer my services to you,” said the 
doctor. “Do not hesitate to call upon me at any time — 
as you called on Dr. Doreann.” 

Mr. Brentwell thanked him sincerely, and a great 
weight went off of his heart. Daisy certainly needed a 
physician’s attention, and he had thought many times of 
the doctor’s bill he would have to pay now, and had 
talked to Christie about it. 

“I was hoping,” said he when they had finished 
talking about Daisy’s illness, “ that Dr. Doreann’s suc- 
cessor would fill his place in St. Paul’s.” 

“Well,” Thurston said laughing, “to tell you the 
truth, I think Dr. Doreann’s ideas of medicine were much 
sounder than those he had of church doctrine. I for 
one am in no way partial to the memory of Henry VIII, 
and am not able to believe in the church he founded.” 

This was a challenge that Mr. Brentwell could not 
resist. He lived in a country-place where he rarely 
met men with whom he could discuss theology, and he 
was particularly fond of doing so ; and he imagined he 
saw in Thurston one whom he might easily convert to 


148 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


his faith, so he spent many hours that afternoon endeav- 
oring to do it. In the end he really made an impression. 

Thurston was so much interested that he invited the 
clergyman to remain to tea and continue it, hut Mr. 
Brentwell declined, saying his family would expect him, 
and wait for him. 

Wlien he was gone the doctor found a little prayer- 
book that he had been using as a reference lying upon 
his desk. He took it up and turned the leaves care- 
lessly, lingering one moment over the delicately written 
Daisy Brentwell from her brother Horatio,” on the 
flyleaf. Silas,” he said, at the tea table, how can 
you have so much faith in a church which was founded 
by Henry VIII?” 

Henry Theight ! ” interposed Mrs. Barker ; “ Fve 
heerd he was the first Episcopal. Does he live in Phil- 
adelphy ? ” 


CHAPTER XTT T. 


“Awake, my soul, stretch every nerve, 
And press with vigor on : 


A heavenly race demands thy zeal, 
And an immortal crown.” 


HE doctor’s practice increased daily ; Newfield was 



gaining confidence in him, although his treat- 
ment was widely different from what Dr. Doreann’s had 


been. 


He was not able to attend morning service on the 
following Sunday, owing to his many patients ; and 
he had scarcely finislied the long list at near twelve 
o’clock when he found himself at the Baptist house of 
worship. He decided, however, to leave the few remain- 
ing ones until afternoon, and finish the morning by 
attending the closing services there, being perhaps in 
time to hear a portion of the sermon. He had a two-fold 
object in entering ; it would show a friendly spirit and 
encourage Baptist patients, and secondly and mainly, 
the ‘^fair unknown” — Daisy — might be a Baptist, and 
he might see her there, and not only see her but be 
introduced to her by her father — some kind hearted old 
gentleman, whose acquaintance he had doubtless made 
ere this — and he would be invited to call, and he would 
call, and — but he had entered, and was fast finding out 


150 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


that the fine castles he was building were without the 
least foundation. 

He seated himself by Mrs. Barker, to her infinite 
delight ; and Miss Amelia too, smiled approvingly. A 
glance sufficed : Daisy, as we well know, was not there. 
He was disappointed it is true ; but on seeing no nice 
old gentleman there worthy of being her father he was 
somewhat consoled, and gave his undivided attention to 
the sermon. 

Mr. Calfort came over to him when the services 
were concluded, extending a welcoming hand. 

We are glad to see you here,” he said, drawing up 
his little figure to its most commanding height, and 
looking condescendingly up to St. James; ^^Yes, very 
glad, sir, very glad, although I do hear that you are — 
ahem — you are a Presbyterian in your faith.” 

You hear the truth,” he said, smiling ; I am a 
Presbyterian.” 

Sorry to hear you corroborate it, sir ; I was hoping 
to hear that it was as false — as false — as false as ” — here 
Mr. Calfort was interrupted by a large woman in purple, 
who stood just behind him, giving sundry small kicks 
and elbow pokes, and by three young ladies in blue, 
who also gave him gentle reminders that they desired 
and demanded an introduction to the distinguished 
stranger. Mr. Calfort introduced the large lady in 
purple as ^^Mrs. Calfort, my wife,” to ^‘Dr. St. James, 
the new physician,” and the three young ladies in blue, 
as his ‘^amiable daughters.” Thurston shook the four 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


151 


flabby bands which were extended to him with his 
usual warmth of manner ; and this warmth of manner 
made Mrs. Calfort think he had mistaken her hand for 
one of her daughters’, and made the hearts of each and 
every one of the damsels in blue beat fast. And the 
damsels themselves began then and there to dream 
dreams of the consequences of love at first sight. But 
afterward, on comparing notes, they decided that he 
was a desperate flirt, and that it would not be of any 
use for him to try to flirt with either of them ! After 
having thus cruelly decided his fate and hardened their 
young hearts against him, they appointed a committee, 
consisting of the youngest and most hard-hearted 
daughter, to wait upon papa and ask him to invite the 
doctor round to tea right soon, and unfeelingly decided 
that they would wear their plaid dresses and pink rib- 
bons on that occasion. 

Solid Mr. Green, an energetic member of the society, 
passed Thurston, as he stood talking to Mr. Calfort and 
family, with scarcely a nod of recognition ; but the 
grocer was strong, healthy and a bachelor — so St. James 
was not troubled. 

There had been a large congregation and a long 
sermon at St. Paul’s, and a late dinner at the rectory ; 
but now it was over. Daisy and Christie had washed the 
dinner dishes ; Lestie had restored the sitting-room to 
its usual tidy state ; Horatio had brought a huge dish of 
apples from the cellar ; Herbert had cracked an equal 


152 


DAISY BREITTWELL. 


quantity of nuts ; and now that all the work was done 
they were seated by the window with their mother in 
their midst, enjoying the nuts and apples and a quiet 
afternoon together. 

‘^ Mother,” Horatio said when all Sunday topics were 
talked over — and the worlds were left for the world’s 
days — Mother, why do you never tell us any stories 
nowadays ? ” 

Stories, my. son ?” 

‘‘Yes, mother; don’t you remember the allegories 
you used to tell us on Sunday afternoons ? ” said Daisy ; 
“ and how fond we were of them, and how impatient 
we always were for Sunday to come to hear another ? ” 

“I remember them,” said Christie. “I used to sit 
on mother’s knee, and Horatio held Lestie.” 

“Yes,” added Lestie, “ and I remember we all three 
of us had blue plaid dresses for Sunday, and Daisy had 
three rows of velvet on hers, while Christie and I only 
had two.” 

“I don’t remember anything about them,” said Paul. 

“ Of course you don’t ; you were only a baby,” said 
Lestie condescendingly. 

“I wasn’t a baby,” shouted Paul. “I never was a 
baby ; was I, mother ? ” 

Paul’s weak point was his youth. It was the one 
disgrace of his life : and Lestie well aware of this weak- 
ness, and knowing of the disgrace, never lost any oppor- 
tunity of alluding to it. 

She laughed. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


153 


Never was a baby ! Oh, ain’t you a goose ! you’re 
a baby now. Old’ Mrs. Blake called you a baby the 
other day. She was asking after Paul, the baby ! ” 

Til Mil Mrs, Wake,” said Paul darkly, doubling 
his fist. 

^^Paul, Paul,” cried Mrs. Brentwell. 

I will,” he reiterated ; I’ll kill her dog Ponto.” 

^^Why, boy alive,” said Horatio, ‘^Washington was 
once an infant, and so was the president. Think of 
that and take comfort.” 

Paul replied by bursting into tears. They may have 
been tears of anger, but they were more likely caused by 
grief on finding out that these great men had once 
been only infants — certainly all the veneration he had 
once felt for them ceased from that moment forevermore. 

Daisy drew him toward her caressingly, while Lestie 
laughed. “You make him worse, Daisy,” the latter said. 

“ Children,” Mrs. Brentwell said in her sweet voice, 
“when you are all quiet I will tell you a short story.” 

“ I knew that thunder storm would bring a story from 
mother,” said Herbert contentedly, resting his elbows on 
her lap and leaning his chin on his hands. “ Proceed.” 

“ Paul, my son, take your hands from your eyes and 
dry your tears. Where is your handkerchief ? ” 

“ Hain’t got none.” 

“ If you talk English, you may have mine,” said 
Christie. 

“Do talk English,” he muttered, taking the hand- 
kerchief ungraciously. 


154 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Now we’re ready, mother,” Horatio said when 
Paul, with red but dry eyes and besmeared face, sat 
upright, and prepared to take his place in the world as y 
a good-but-old boy. 

will tell you a story,” Mrs. Brentwell began, 
that I read many years ago in a little book my grand- ' 
mother owned. I have forgotten a great deal of it ; 
but still it will serve to illustrate a few truths, and I 
hope impress them on your hearts. It is entitled ^ 

^^The Icy Kiver.” 

^^It was a bright winter’s morning in a far distant 
country. The sun threw genial rays on the glistening 
snow that covered the banks of the River of Ice, and 
seemed to promise a long, fair day. Groups of children 
were sporting in its warmth upon these banks ; sporting 
as though the bright day had been made for no other 
purpose ; as though the kind rays were given only to 
illumine a playground' — a playground where they would 
linger forever. And they were fast forgetting that they 
were far from Home, and that they must reach that 
Home — their Father’s Home — before the sun set ; or the 
gates would be forever barred against them, and a voice 
— the voice of their ever forgiving Father — would pro- 
claim that He knew them not. Yes, they were forget- 
ting this — but not all ; a few hearts remembered with 
fear that they knew not the hour when the night would 
overtake them, when the sun they now rejoiced in, 
might set and leave them in utter darkness, where there 


4 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


155 


would be no longer idle sports and play, but wailing 
and gnashing of teeth : a few others remembered their 
Father’s love, and their own hearts beat in eager response, 
and they longed to be wrapt in His embrace and hear 
Him say : ^ Well done, good and faithful child, enter now 
into thy joy ! ’ The joys which their Elder Brother, the 
Prince, had prepjtred for them — joys the least of which 
made all their sports now seem but vain, lagging and 
dull tasks, a weary seeking after happiness that was not, 
that could not be found away from Home. Still they 
lingered. The more careless ones tried with merry 
sallies and laughing words to drive all thoughts of their 
Father from their hearts. The frozen River, which was 
the path to the Mansion, the only path the children 
might tread when they sought their Father’s abode, was 
cold, and so slippery that one could scarcely gain a foot- 
hold, and when that foothold was gained, they must go 
on, on, without once pausing for rest or to look behind, 
for it ivas impossible to stand still for one moment upon 
the ice ; it must be onward, onward, or backward. The 
instant they paused, when the journey was begun, 
they would slide back, back, even past the starting 
point, and with greater rapidity than it ever had been 
possible for them to go forward, and they would go 
swiftly to destruction. Their Father had foreseen this, 
and had given them each a staff to aid and support 
them in their journey, and to help, them recover their 
footing when they lost it. 

The sun rose higher in the sky, the morn was fast 


156 


BEEH'TWELL. 

going and noon approaching ; but still their voices rang 
out in the quiet, clear air, and were echoed and re-echoed 
by the surrounding hills. 

But at length one, a tall manly youth, forsook the 
enticing sports, calling to his comrades : 

‘ Come, comrades, it is time for us to set upon our 
journey. Let us forsake these sports, and prepare to 
seek our Father’s house. We should have been on the 
way hours ago.’ 

‘ Nonsense ! ’ another cried, ^ there is plenty of time ; 
the sun cannot set in many a long hour. See ! it scarcely 
is more than risen.’ 

‘^‘Yes,’ returned Mario, ^but we know not the 
hour when — ’ 

‘ Come, comrade,’ said a third, ‘don’t cast shadows 
over us by reminding of dark things, and by talking of 
impossibilities ; leave that to girlish Silvio. You be 
a man.’ 

“ ‘ A ‘man ’ would go now,’ Mario said, ‘ would go 
when duty and when a loving Father calls. I hear His 
voice and I will obey. Ando, will you come with me ? ’ 

‘“ I ! Indeed I will not. For what was the bright 
morn given us if not for sport ? I shall stay and enjoy 
it, and this afternoon I shall start and run every step of 
the way, and get there long enough before you do.’ 

“ ‘ The sun is not two hours up,’ said he who first 
replied to Mario, ‘if it is that. Come, Mario, remain 
with us yet a while ; there is no pleasure when you are 
away ! ’ 


DAISY BREilTW^ELL. 


157 


^ Ah, Salmund ! ’ said Mario grayely, laying his 
hand on his comrade’s shoulder, ‘ tempt me not to 
linger ; too long already have I done so ; too many 
morning hours have I squandered ; I must he doing my 
Father’s will. Come with me — why delay ? The night 
will soon he upon us. When we least dream of it we 
shall he engulfed in eternal darkness. Eternal, eternal ; 
for we never shall escape. Believe me, comrades, no 
man knoweth the hour when the night of death draw- 
eth nigh ? ’ 

' Nonsense ! ’ retorted Ando, ^ there is not so much 
danger as all that. I tell you that sun can’t set for 
hours ; nor need you try to frighten me into going.’ 

^ Not frighten you, Ando, — no, no ; neither you nor 
any of the comrades, but for the love of Our Father I 
pray you go. Think of the great love He bears ’ — 

' ^ If He loved us,’ interrupted Ando, ^ He would 

have made another road for us to travel, not that slip- 
pery way. Why, Mario, you see yourself that it is 
almost i mpossible to take one step forward ! ’ 

^ We might well say tliat,’ returned Mario, ^ if our 
Elder Brother, His dearly beloved Son, had not trodden 
the way before us, and showed us that it is possible. 
But I must not linger. Is there no one who will come 
with me ? ’ He looked sadly around on the bright faces 
of his comrades ; for he loved them well.' 

Silvio came to his side. 

^ I will go with you,’ he said, ^if you will help me 
when I falter.’ 


158 


DAISY BREIsTWELL. 


‘ Gladly will I do all that I can, dear Silvio,’ said 
Mario, kindly ; ‘ but you must lean hard on the staff 
our Father has given you and find strength. Salmund,’ 
he continued, turning to his best loved companion, ^ will 
you not come too ? ’ 

^^The few words Mario had spoken to Ando had 
deeply impressed Salmund, and he fain would have fol- 
lowed him, hut he felt that he could not relinquish the 
games of his comrades. He preferred rather to enjoy 
the pleasures of sin for a season ; though the season 
might be short and the punishment eternal. ^ Mario,’ 
he said, hesitatingly, * you know that I love you much, 
and cannot endure to be parted from you ; I truly do 
not know what to do.’ 

' Come with me,’ entreated Mario. ^ Come, but 
not for the love you hear me, hut for the love you have 
for our Father.’ t 

^ Oh, I love Him, of course ! ’ Salmund said, 
lightly ; ^ hut you know I love you much. I believe,’ 
he added, after a moment’s thought, ^ that I will go with 
you, Mario ; I will try it.’ 

Mario embraced him. 

‘ Where is your staff ? ’ he asked, as they were 
setting out. 

‘1 really do not know : I have not used it in some 
time,’ said Salmund, carelessly. 

^ Salmund ! Salmund ! is it true that you have 
not used the staff of late ? ’ 

^ There, don’t mind it so : I shall find it soon. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


159 


Where could I have laid it ? you know/ he added, 

^ that one’s staff is not necessary at all times.’ 

Indeed it is,’ answered Mario: ^we are com- 
manded. to use it without ceasing. ’ It should never be 
out of our hands.’ 

" Well, well, I’m sorry now that I lost sight of it ; 
but I was so taken up with the sports that I entirely 
forgot it. Ah ! here it is once more. Now I am ready. 
I wonder if I can keep up.’ 

^^^If you lean hard on the staff,’ whispered timid 
Silvio ; ^ it will strengthen you.’ 

‘ Brothers, farewell,’ said Mario, tearfully. 

^ This is no farewell at all,’ responded Ando, con- 
fidently ; ^ we will set out this afternoon, and soon be 
up with you.’ 

The three started on their Journey. Mario leaned 
boldly on his staff ; Silvio tremblingly grasping his and 
caught unto Mario’s garments, while Salmund walked 
in his own strength, and went for the love he bore his 
comrade and not his Father. 

Mario,’ he said, at length, ^you can never doubt 
my love for you.’ 

‘ I have never doubted it, dear Salmund.’ 

^ Nay, but look how I love you. I could not let you 
leave me for one brief hour, but come with you even on 
this journey.’ 

‘‘ ‘ I pray you,’ Mario said, earnestly, ^not to say 
that it is your love for me that brought you on this 
Journey, but say rather it was love for our—’ 


160 


DAISY BKEJITWELL. 


^^^Look!’ cried the other interrupting him, and 
pointing to a flock of birds which were flying in the air. 
‘Look, look at the birds.’ 

“ They stopped — they ceased their onward journey, 
and thoughtlessly gazed. . But Silvio still leaning on x 
his staff, casting not one glance behind him, went trem- 
blingly on. ^ 

“ The others were so en wrapt, watching the flight of 
the beautiful birds, that it was some moments before they 
felt that they were going swiftly backwards. Mario was 
the first to perceive it. He grasped his staff tightei 
in his hand, and vainly endeavored to find a hold for it 
in the ice. 

“ ‘ See where we are going, Salmund,’ he cried ; and 
even as he spoke, he heard the jeering voices of his late 
companions as they passed them on the shore. ‘ Oh, my 
Father ! ’ he groaned, ‘be merciful unto me.’ 

“‘See! see! there they go,’ cried Salmund, still 
intent upon the birds. 

“ ‘ Salmund,’ he cried again with all his strength, 
‘leave the birds. Look! we are going swiftly back.’ 
And Mario, leaning heavily upon his staff, started slowly 
forward. But Salmund, still intent upon the birds, went 
back, back. At length when they had flown from his 
sight, he saw that he had lost more than he had gained, 
and his beloved Mario was far ahead of him, and his 
heart was troubled. 

“ ‘ Mario,’ he cried, ‘ what shall I do ? Mario, Mario, 
hear me ! ’ 


DAISY BREiq-TWELL. 


IGl 


‘ Lean upon your staff/ came Mario’s voice, faint in 
the distance. ^Lean hard, Salmund, and our Father 
will help you ; for He loves you. Hasten ! delay not ; 
for we have lost much, and the day is far spent.’ 

^'And Salmund did hasten, leaning with all his 
strength upon his staff, casting himself upon it, as 
did Silvio. 

^ Ah, Mario ! ’ he said when he had joined his com- 
panions, ^ you have seen how truly I love you. I have 
suffered all this for your sake.’ 

‘ I pray you,’ Mario said gravely, ^ do not go on this 
journey for my sake ; it is useless. I love you, dear 
brother, but what is my love in comparison to our 
Father’s ? Could my love have turned your steps, and 
brought you back ? ’ 

^ Hay, Mario, that it could not.’ 

^Was it not our Father who held you up ? Were 
you not strengthened when you leaned upon your staff ? ’ 
^ Upon my much neglected staff ! :^ Ah, indeed I 
was. Had it not been for that I see now that I could 
never have regained my place with you and Silvio ; for I 
was very weak and greatly terrified.’ 

^ We are nothing without the staff,’ said Silvio. 

Nothing, nothing,’ rejoined Mario. ^And,’ he 
added, ^ever lean on it as you did in that moment 
of peril.’ 

will, if you desire so, Mario — ’ 

" If I ! ’ Mario cried. ^ Oh, not I ! but our Father. 
All is useless, useless if it is for me. Better that you 


162 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


were still sporting on the hank than thus deceiving 
yourself. Do you not remember that He is jealous ? 
that He will be loved above all others ? ’ 

^ Yes, yes, I remember.’ 

^ And remember His mercy. His loving kind ’ — 

^ Mario, I do love Him : but can I not love you 
also ? ’ Salmund interrupted. 

^ Aye, indeed ; hut Him the best.’ 

^ When I left our comrades,’ Salmund went on, ^it 
was for your sake alone I came, but since He has saved 
me from such destruction I have learned to love Him 
first and above all others ; be no longer anxious.’ 

Mario and Silvio embraced him. 

So the three journeyed on together, talking of their 
Father and Elder Brother who had gone on before them. 
There were many backslidings, but with the aid of their 
staves they would go on their way again rejoicing. 

^^The day was drawing to a close, and they were near 
home when Salmund said, ^ Ah, that Ando and our 
comrades had journeyed with us. I fear they will never 
reach our Father’s house I’ 

^ I fear it also,’ Mario said. And it was even so. 
Ando and his companions whiled the morning hours 
away in games. Noon came, but still enraptured they 
lingered. . The Eiver was glaring and cold, and the sun 
shining warm upon them seemed scarcely nearer setting 
than when it first rose. 

‘ Plenty of time,’ Ando would say. ^ We will over- 
take them yet.’ ‘Plenty of time,’ he said as the after- 


DAISY BREJITWELL. 


163 


noon crept on. ^ Plenty of time ; we will have one more 
game before we start.’ And as he spoke, the sun, which 
had shone so bright and warm the moment before, sank 
behind the hills, and they were left to perish in the 
darkness. 

And where were Mario, Silvio and Salmund then ? 
On they had hastened to their Home, and as the sun 
sank behind the hills, they entered the pearly gates.” 

Is that all ? ” Paul asked as she paused. 

Yes, my darling boy, that is all. And I want to 
hear Lestie and Paul explain it.” 

I can explain it,” said Lestie quickly. 

The staff was Prayer. I knew that all the time.”. 

And what verse in the Bible was my text — as your 
father would say — Paul ? ” 

^ Thou shalt have no other God before me,’ ” he 
answered pompously, sitting erect that it might be 
more effective. 

Hot exactly. I wanted to impress on your minds 
that it is impossible to stand still in our Christian life ; 
we must either grow in grace, or fall back. This is a 
solemn thought, my children. Every moment we live, 
and every little deed we do, has an influence on the whole 
of eternity. And we should pause before every act, and 
ask ourselves whether it will strengthen us in our growth 
or retard us ; whether it is for the Saviour or against 
him, remembering that it is surely one or the other.” 

Mother,” cried Herbert, know the verse. It is 
^ He that is not with Me is against Me. ’ ” 


164 


DAISY EKEI^TWELL. 


Yes, dear, that is it.” 

Paul leaned his head on Daisy’s knee and wept, re- 
gretting his sins in general, and his promise to spend the 
following afternoon at Sam Luken’s hut in particular. 

Lestie looked carelessly out of the window ; neither 
the allegory nor the moral had taken any hold upon 
her heart. 


4 


CHAPTER XIV. 


‘ O with due reverence let ns all 
To God’s ahhde repair.” 


— Htmnai.. 


D r. ST. JAMES had^once thought of describing the 
appearance of the fair unknown ” to Mrs. Barker, 
and of asking, not only; her name, but her life — her 
heart-history; but upon | second thought — the thought 
world-renowned for wiMom — ^lie /concluded that it 
would be almost as unmse a pro^eding as to call a 
meeting of the towns-peonle, and ipake inquiries of that 
assembly. Neither wouldlhe ask /Silas or Miss Amelia ; 
so he waited, determining to make all possible private 
investigations. He had alreMy seen that she was neither 
a Presbyterian nor Baptist ;\lihere was no Methodist 
house of worship in Newfield ; |^o he determined to visit 
St. Paul’s that evening. Sila^ Ws well pleased to have 
him accompany him, and the^i sWted long before the 
usual time. There were but few ik the church when 
they entered, and their faces theldoct^eagerly scanned. 
While Silas was offering a silent mra; 
ing his mind for the service, Thwston watctietrtne peo- 
ple as they entered with great interest. Mrs. Brentwell 
came with the younger children ; Christie and Lestie 
went into the choir w^hich adjoined the chancel. A 


166 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


little later Horatio entered with Daisy — Daisy herself, 
looking as quietly pretty to Thurston as ever, and 
unheeding the anxious blue eyes that followed her, as 
she walked slowly up the aisle by her brother’s side. 
Horatio left her at the pew door, and hastening into 
the choir he began to play the voluntary. ^ 

Thurston knew now that they were lovers — a youth- 
ful pair : Horatio was no more than a boy ! and she 
> was not too young to be loved by a man — and to have . 
chosen a boy ! ; 

How divinely Horatio played ! How grandly the , 
organ pealed forth sweet music, low flute-like murmur- Q 
ings, and deep mufiied thunderings ! Down the broad | 
aisle through the dimly lighted church it floated, shut- j 
ting out from the thoughts of the gathered worshippers i 
all the world’s memories, filling each heart with love, ‘ 
tuning each spirit to one great hymn of praise, prepar- ■ 
ing them, heart and spirit, to unite in the solemn wor- 
ship of their Creator and Eedeemer. The light shone 
softly on the altar cross throwing its shadow over the I : 
youthful organist, falling a blessing in sad disguise, in- ^ 
spiring him with music almost seraphic ; for the keys 
he pressed seemed to tell in one great chord of the love 
and mercy, the suffering triumph of that cross ; and, 
when the lights grew brighter, and the shadow deepened, 
the tones were more inspiring — there was deeper love in !; 
them ; the mercy grew more tender ; the suffering more k 
intense, thrilling each heart with its agony ; and the 
triumph — that glorious triumph — grew yet more glorious, f 




DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


167 


When Mr. Brentwell entered, robed in priestly gar- 
ments, every heart was prepared to unite with him in 
silent prayer, to give utterance to the prayers and 
praises Horatio had played, and to join with whole 
hearts in the service that followed. 

Silas found the places in the prayer-book for the 
doctor, and aided him during the service. Perhaps it 
was owing to this, or perhaps to the conversation he had 
had with Mr. Brentwell on the subject — Thurston 
could not tell which — hut he was more impressed with 
the service, and understood it better than ever before. 
He even added Amen ” several times with the others. 

When the service was over, Silas joined Christie, 
leaving the doctor to the mercy of the eager crowd of 
newly-made friends, who gathered around him. t1i urs- 
ton was hoping that some one of these friendly villagers 
would, in a moment of compassion, introduce him to 
the unknown fair, and so lingered willingly, but, alas 
for his hopes ! 

Horatio joined her again, and they left the church 
together. It is a shame to relate that Thurston greeted 
the brother coolly that evening. 

Oh, my stars ! ” said a voice at his elbow, are 
you here ? ” 

Thinking that she might have asked for information, 
he replied that he was ; and Miss Morris, well satisfied 
that it was not his wraith, passed on, leaning on the 
arm of her escort. 

St. Paul’s had, as all well regulated churches have. 


168 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


a church-beau. This is an unmarried gentleman, who 
makes it his business to pay polite attention to any » 
young lady belonging to the congregation who may he ■; 
unattended. Moffatt was repaid for his services by the 
smiles and tender glances of the grateful ladies, a pair 
of highly embroidered slippers, or a butterfly neck-tie 
made by their own fairy fingers — and he felt himself 
well repaid. At first it might be thought that he had 
no heart, to he able thus to withstand the charms of so ^ 
many fair ones. Not so : so far from having no heart , 
at all, that member was so immense that it contained the 
image of every young lady in St. Paul’s, and not one 
had powers of attraction sufficient to gain the whole of 
it. Each one had her own private little corner, and • 
there she must remain contented. A heart, we must 
remember, is never our own until we have entire posses- 
sion, be it large or small, and we must remember too 
that there are no hard hearts — as love goes — in the 
world, that they are large or small. A small one is 
quickly won, and is capable of little love, hut a large . 
heart withstands all ordinary charms, requiring much, 
and requiring many. But at length when it yields to 
one, great is the yielding thereof ! And this was 
Andrew’s heart. 

His heart was large as his body was small. He had 
a little round face, with two little round cheeks that 
bloomed like two rosy apples ; one little round nose, two 
little round eyes, and a round chin that vied with the 
cheeks in their bloom ; a little round waist which was 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


169 


well covered witli a gayly-flowered vest. His hair was 
hrusHed so smoothly away from his blooming cheeks 
and rounded forehead that a fly would have slipped, and 
doubtless been fatally wounded in attempting a prom- 
enade thereon. His hands were little and round, and 
on all possible occasions were incased in neat cotton 
gloves, the backs of which were artistically embroidered 
with divers colored threads. He invariably wore plaid 
. pants, bright neck-tie, bottle-green coat and a tan- 
colored overcoat, and his feet were as respectable as 
little feet always are. And as for his character and 
standing, half the church would have vouched for his 
being an estimable young man, one who was well-fitted 
for the honorable office of church-beau. It was one of 
his manifold duties to escort one young lady, at least, 
home from service on Sunday evening, and here he 
acquitted himself well. He was, in short, an honor to 
the fraternity. 

On the Sunday evening of which we write. Miss 
Martha was the favored one — for it was her turn ; and 
so it was on Andrew Moffatt’s arm she was leaning when 
she greeted Thurston. It was one of Mr. Moffatt^s 
peculiarities — or better, his virtues — to offer the selected 
young lady his round little arm at her own pew door. 
So no one could ever say that he omitted one requisite of 
being an estimable young man, a well-bred church-beau. 

Thurston was leaving the church when Herbert 
Brentwell hastened after him, and asked him to wait : 
his father and mother wished to speak to him ; and in a 


170 


DAISY BREJ^TWELL. 


few moments they joined them. The doctor was intro- 
duced to Mrs. Brentwell, who invited him to spend the 
following Thursday afternoon with them, and to take 
tea. Thurston politely accepted the invitation, at the 
same time requesting permission to bring Silas. 

To think that I should have forgotten him,” said 
Mrs. Brentwell, reproaching herself. To be sure, you 
must bring him ; and tell him we sent the invitation.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


Blessed are the merciful ; for they shall obtain mercy.** 

— St. Matt. Chap. v. 7. 


rr^HE door of Mrs. Barker’s kitchen was unceremoni- 
-L ously opened and Mrs. Pepper entered. Miss Ame- 
lia looked up from the dishes she was washing, to greet 
her, and Mrs. Barker paused in the discourse on the 
cushion she was making for the largest rocking-chair. 

walked right in,” Mrs. Pepper kindly informed 
them ; I never stand on ceremony.” 

That’s right,” rejoined Mrs. Barker. ’Melie, 
push her the big rocker. It sets right well since we had it 
mended. Silas he broke it the other night. He rocked 
too far and over he went. I thought at first he was 
dead, and I blessed my stars that we had a doctor in the 
house ; but he wasn’t even hurt.” 

Mrs. Pepper, having seated herself in the renowned 
chair, was closely watching Miss Amelia’s movements. 

What’s that,” she cried as that lady was putting 
away the napkins, ^^that silver thing ?” 

The doctor’s napkin ring,” the widow explained, 
with the least poss’Me pride at her superior knowledge. 

My, ain’t it handsome ! ” cried Mrs. Pepper, turn- 
ing it over and over in her fingers. And he’s even got 


172 


DAISY BEEi^TWELL. 


his name written on it. They must be stylish at home, 
for that cost a heap o’ money.” 

'' That’s so,” said widow Barker. “ I know all about 
it ; for Silas took such a fancy to it that he sent to the 
city for one. And it cost ten dollars and wasn’t half 
so elegant.” 

Miss Amelia then displayed Silas’s. 

My ! my ! ” groaned Mrs. Pepper, examining them 
both and comparing their respective merits. What a 
waste o’ money. I s’pose they’re awful rich though. 
Ain’t the doctor a mite proud ? ” 

“Not a mite,” said Mrs. Barker; “he sits down 
along with us, and talks and laughs as friendly as you 
do. No, there ain’t anything stuck up about him. And 
Silas — ^why you haven’t any idea of the change that has 
come over him since the doctor came ! He ain’t any 
thing like as bashful.” 

And then the ladies fell to talking about Silas-before- 
the-doctor-came and Silas-after-the-doctor-came : notes 
were compared, and opinions freely given. 

“ I was in Mr. Green’s store to-day,” Mrs. Pepper 
said, at length ; “ and we got to talking about the doctor. 
Mr. Green he says that he thinks that he is a desperate 
character ; he can’t* make anything out of him, but he 
thinks he’s been in prison sometime, and is trying to 
hide it from folks in Newfield.” 

The indignation of the two ladies was beyond bounds. 

“That Green,” cried the widow, “ is the biggest liar 
in town. Now, ’Melie we’ll never buy another cent’s 


DAISY BKEU-TWELL. 


173 


worth of him ; we’ll go up to Lute’s on Ailing road. I 
don’t care if it is a long walk. What did you say Mis’ 
Pepper, when he said that ? ” 

I only said, " Do tell,’ ” returned Mrs. Pepper ; 
“for, you see, I didn’t know but what there might be 
something true in it, and if there was, you know, it 
would have been telling a story for me to contradict it.” 

“Well, I would have contradicted it,” said Miss 
Amelia. 

“ I’ll tell the doctor the first thing,” said Mrs. Barker. 

“No, Mary, it might hurt his feelings,” said 
Miss Amelia. 

Mrs. Pepper changed the subject of the conversation 
by asking if they were going to attend the church-meet- 
ing that evening. 

“ It is quite time,” she said ; “ for it begins at seven, 
and now it lacks only twenty minutes. I like to be 
there in season.” 

Miss Amelia, having finished the dish-washing, 
brought her own and her sister-in-law’s bonnets •and 
shawls into the kitchen, where they unceremoniously 
donned them ; and Mrs. Pepper, far from feeling that 
they had taken a liberty, freely commented upon their 
manufacture and material, to which Mrs. Barker readily 
replied by giving a complete and separate history of each 
of them. Miss Amelia gave over the safe keeping of the 
house into Silas’s hands, and they departed for the meet- - 
ing. On their way Mrs. Pepper instructed them that they 
were to vote in favor of cutting down the minister’s salary 


174 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


two hundred dollars per annum, hoping by these means to 
send him away ; Mr. Calfort had been talking it around, 
she said, and every one thought it would be carried. 

There were a few other matters discussed in the 
meeting before the subject of the salary was mentioned. 
Three youths who aspired to join them were examined ; 
two passed and were voted in, but the third, either 
from failure in his examination, or on account of Mr. 
Green’s electioneering against him, was voted out. And 
as it afterward proved that the said youth had escorted 
Sallie Loomis home from meeting on three successive 
Sunday evenings, and that Mr. Green was not once 
allowed that pleasure, the blame was laid on the grocer’s 
able and determined electioneering. 

When these were disposed of a new fence was spirit- 
edly discussed, a new shed was voted to be erected and 
a few new panes of glass entered. Then came the 
business of the evening. Mr. Calfort rose, threw back 
his head, clasped his hands behind his back and began 
to 4^eak eloquently on the subject of church finances, 
and on the vanities of this world, commingling the two 
in a most artistic manner. For some time, however, 
no connection was seen, but Mr. Calfort like a true 
lawyer brought it out in a most marvellous manner by 
explaining that it was impossible to pay Mr. Borne six 
hundred dollars per annum while the treasury of the 
church was in such a low state, and in consequence Mr. 
Borne and family would be obliged to indulge in a few 
less vanities of this world and useless luxuries — the evil 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


175 


results of which the lawyer had just shown. Having 
rubbed the hack of his head vigorously during this dis- 
course he sat down well satisfied that he had accom- 
plished his end. 

Mr. Borne arose. 

Sisters and brothers,” he began — Sisters and 
brothers, you have listened to an able — a remarkable 
speech by Brother Calfort, our Deacon. It is true that 
the finances of the church are in a low state — it is true 
— but I cannot plead guilty — indeed I have not indulged 
in unnecessary — in luxuries” — ^lie faltered, hut one 
glance at the pale face of his wife drove him on an 
almost desperation, and for the once his anxiety and 
his love for her overcame his fear of Mr. Calfort. 
‘‘ Brothers and sisters,” he began again, ^^so far from 
indulging in luxuries I have not the necessaries of life — 
I have not the means to clothe my children or to give 
them proper food. My wife is delicate in health and I 
cannot afford her medical aid, and alone she must do 
the work of our large family. Vanities ! ” (growing 
more fearless every moment), look at my garments — 
at my wife’s — and these are our best, the best we own ; 
tattered as they are they are our best. You yourselves 
have sometimes spoken of the shabby manner in which 
my wife and children were clad — and we wear our best. 
Many a night have we gone supperless to bed that our 
children might have a few broken crusts that were in 
the house — all the food in the house ; and then we have 
heard their cries of hunger unable to give them more. 


176 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


Brothers and sisters, if your children — think — if your 
children were starving — imagine them going night after 
night half famished to their sleep. I am starving on 
six hundred dollars a year. We cannot live on less.” 

Mr. Borne sat down overcome by his great sorrows. 

Trust in the Lord,” Deacon Lawson’s pious voice 
was heard to say with great solemnity. 

Mr. Calfort again arose. 

We have heard Brother Borne’s remarks,” he said ; 
and I have hut one word in reply ; and that is one 
must cut the garment according to the cloth. And let 
me advise Mr. Borne to remember Brother Lawson’s 
remark, and put his trust in the Lord.” Mr. Calfort 
then resumed his seat at peace with the world and him- 
self. Mr. Borne motioned to his weeping wife, and 
they left the meeting together. 

Miss Amelia was also in tears, hut Mrs. Barker, 
urged on by Mrs. Pepper, voted in favor of the reduction. 

The motion was carried by five majority ; and the 
meeting was then closed by a prayer from Mr. Lawson, 
and the singing of a hymn beginning, “ Oh, for a closer 
walk with God,” which Mr. Calfort selected and raised 
the tune. 

Miss Amelia went home heavy-hearted. She went 
immediately to the doctor’s office, and to him she told 
her grief. He listened with great indignation, and 
Silas who was present grew really angry at the treat- 
ment Mr. Borne had received. 

This stirring consultation was not without fruits. 


I 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


177 


Early tlie following morning Miss Amelia and Silas, 
bearing a huge basket of provision and two bundles of 
the doctor’s and Silas’s half worn clothing, knocked at the 
kitchen door of the little brown cottage where Mr. 
Borne lived. Loiig before that door was opened Silas 
was walking swiftly down the street occupied with 
other and very important matters, leaving Miss Amelia 
to bear the burden of the thanks alone. 

^^Oh, Miss Amelia, Miss Amelia!” cried Mrs. 
Borne, seating herself on the floor beside the basket 
and taking the bundles on her lap, how kind 1 how 
kind 1 The Lord has surely sent you.” 

‘‘ It’s little enough that I have done,” said the spin- 
ster wiping her eyes ; it is mostly from the doctor and 
Silas. But they ain’t worn much any way. See ! ” 
holding up a vest, ‘^this was the doctor’s. Now that’ll 
flt Mr. Borne, dear pastor. It’s a little large, but 
you can easily take that in. Then he sent a whole 
suit.” 

“ Why, they are new ! ” 

Almost.” 

“I am afraid they robbed themselves.” 

Indeed they didn’t ; you have no idea of the quan- 
tities of clothes they both have. Here, Silas sent those 
shirts for Mr. Borne, and the coats and pantaloons to 
make over for the boys.” 

Oh, bless that dear boy ! How can I thank you 
all ? Eive shirts ! and Mr. Borne’s are all so worn 
and ragged.” 

8 * 


178 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


^‘What is Mr. Borne going to do,” Miss Amelia 
asked at length. 

‘‘He has resigned.” • 

“ Kesigned ! Oh mercy, no ! What will he do ? 
where will he go ? ” 

“ I cannot tell. The Lord only knows.” 

“ How is your health now ? ” Miss Amelia sud- 
denly asked. 

“ I am no better,” despairingly. 

“The doctor says — the doctor says — if you won’t 
mind, Mrs. Borne ? ” 

The minister’s wife raised her eyes, “What, Miss 
Amelia ?” 

“You know,” she said, starting afresh with hopes 
of better success, “ that doctors never charge ministers ? ” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“ Well, they don’t ; and he’ll be ’round this after- 
noon to see you. Mind you don’t speak a word of 
paying him ; for he said so.” 

“ Miss Amelia — ” Mrs. Borne began. 

“ There ! don’t say a word — I must go, I do believe 
he is the best man that ever was.” And with this eulogy 
Miss Amelia departed. 

An hour later Mr. Borne returned. He had just 
handed in his resignation informally to Mr. Calfort, and 
he was heart-sick, almost to despair. But the burden 
was a little lightened at the sight of the well-filled din- 
ner table of Miss Barker’s providing. The children 
eagerly displayed the clothing, and after an early and 


DAISY BEEl^TWELL. 


179 


hearty dinner they tried them on, and they proved more 
than satisfactory. The pockets were examined, as 
pockets are on all occasions ; and to their surprise and 
unbounded thankfulness- fifteen dollars were found 
distributed in them. Who could have put that money 
there ; Dr. St. James, Miss Amelia, or Silas ? No one 
there could tell. If Miss Amelia had been asked she 
might have looked conscious at the five, and Dr. St. 
James at the ten, but neither were there to be ques- 
tioned, and neither knew of the gift of the other. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


“ When your beauty appears, 

In its graces and airs, 

As bright as an angel new dropt from the skies, 
At a distance I gaze and amazed by my fears, 

So strangely you dazzle my eyes.” 


— Thomas Pabksll. 



FEW minutes after five o’clock on the following 


Thursday afternoon Silas Thorpe and Dr. St. 
James knocked at the rectory door. Both had come 
determined to conquer ; Silas had bought a new neck- 
tie, and Thurston had been studying Presbyterian 
divines. 

There had been quite a discussion between the two 
in reference to the hour of going ; Silas insisting that 
‘^spending the afternoon and taking tea,” meant 
going before three, while the doctor maintained the 
proper hour was six, perhaps later. Both yielded the 
hour but not their opinion, and went at five. 

Paul admitted them, and his first words proved that 
Silas had been in the right. 

What made you so late ? ” he asked. We’d 
given you up. I’ve been dressed ever since two, and 1 
didn’t go to school this afternoon on purpose, and there 
Herbert’s been home an hour.” 

He preceded them into the parlor. 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


181 


^‘WeVe got a fire made here, too. Ain’t it jolly ? 
How’s your thumb, Si, where you hurt it ? ” 

Oh, it’s well.” Of what account were thumbs in 
Christie’s home ! 

Sit down,” Paul said, pushing the large rocking 
chair toward the doctor ; but Thurston preferred stand- 
ing for the present. As he leaned against the mantel- 
piece his eyes fell on the orderly rows of daguerreotypes. 
He idly picked one up. 

‘‘That’s my aunt Phebe,” Paul explained, politely 
taking it from him. “And that,” (taking down an- 
other), “ is her son Tom when he wasn’t but two years 
old. Don’t he look queer ? ” 

“ Very,” absently. 

“ He’s eight now,” continued Paul, much interested ; 
“ and that old lady was father’s mother. Look at her,” 
he commanded. “ Did you eyer see it. Si. ? ” 

Silas, who had seated himseK on the sofa, and had 
his time well employed in keeping on that treacherous 
seat, and listening for the sound of Christie’s footstep 
and voice, only answered, “no.” 

“Are the ladies at home ?” St. James asked. 

“ Who ? ” said Paul, reaching for a likeness of a 
cross-looking baby. “ That’s me,” he C]*Ied, pressing it 
upon the doctor’s notice. 

“Yes : I see. Is Mr. Brentwell in ?” 

“ Ho, he ain’t. He’s gone to Luntoun to see a 
dying man. He had to go all of a sudden, and he 
said we was to tell you. Think o’ me wearing dresses ; ” 


182 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


(referring to the pictures) — I wonder how I’d look 
in ’em now. ” 

Be so kind as to let your mother and sisters know 
that we are here,” urged Thurston, strangely indifferent 
to the fascination of the frowning infant. 

They know it,” replied Paul, still lost in admira- 
tion of his former beauty : I wouldn’t ’ave taken any 
body else in here. We always take every one right into 
the sitting-room, but they didn’t want to set the table 
before you folks. Say, do you remember when you 
wore dresses ? ” 

No,” with great dignity. 

I don’t neither,” laughed the child. I’m awful 
glad we don’t have to wear ’em always, ain’t you ? ” 

To the doctor’s relief the door opened at this 
moment and Horatio entered. 

He greeted them warmly. 

‘‘Father was called away very unexpectedly,” he 
said ; “but he will soon return. I’m certain my mother 
does not know of your arrival. Paul, go call her and 
the girls.” 

“They can find it out like you did,” he muttered, 
going slowly toward the door, still holding the cross 
baby. 

The next moment he was heard in the entry calling 
out “Mother, girls, mother, I say, the doctor and Silas 
are here. You’d better come down if you want to see 
them.” Then he ran back. 

“Paul,” Horatio said, not very well pleased with the 


DAISY BEEIJTWELL. 


183 


performance, ‘^go into mother’s room and ask her to 
come here, and then go up stairs and tell the girls.” 

^‘They know it; for Lestie told me to Miush up,’” 
returned Paul angrily, yet not daring to disobey. 

‘‘Well, Silas,” Horatio began as the door closed after 
him, “ how are you getting on at the Academy ?” 

“ Tolerably,” Silas replied, without looking up. 

“ ‘ Tolerably,’ indeed ! ” Thurston said, seating him- 
self. “ Prom what Professor Newcomb told me I am of 
the opinion that it is somewhat more than ‘ tolerably.’ ” 

“We must ask Herbert. Ah, here he is ! ” (as the 
youth entered.) “Bertie, give us an account of Silas’s 
‘scholarship.’ ” 

“ What’ll I tell ’em Si. ? ” shaking hands with the 
doctor. 

“ You’ve nothing to tell ’em.” 

“ Haven’t I ? only that he’s number one in Geometry 
and Latin,” Herbert laughed. 

Horatio seated himself in front of the fire, and Thurs- 
ton silently regarding him, wondered if he was really 
engaged, and if the whole affair was settled, and if they 
had any definite idea when they could be married, and 
if he was very happy — as he ought to be, and if he would 
excuse himself when evening came and go spend the 
evening with her. Thurston determined he would never 
excuse him, he would invent a thousand things to 
detain him. 

“ Mother’ll he here in a moment,” Paul cried, burst- 
ing in ; “ So’ll Lestie and Christie, hut Daisy’s setting 


184 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


the table. She was awful mad to think I hollered up 
the stairs that way ; and Lest said I hadn’t any style. 
Daisy says you^re awful stylish,” to the doctor. 

Paul,” said Horatio. 

‘‘ Well, she did ; she said it at the dinner table, and 
she said the doctor had beautiful white hands too ; and 
Christie said she didn’t like to see a man have such 
handsome — ” 

^‘Paul, be silent,” Horatio interrupted. At that 
moment Mrs. Brentwell entered, to the relief of all par- 
ties, and Paul, gathering a dozen or more daguerreotypes 
from the mantel-piece and seating himself on the floor, 
gave himself up to perfect and peaceful enjoyment of 
them. 

Silas, meanwhile, divining in what manner he would 
have finished his remarks if Horatio had not with such 
poor taste interrupted him, was much comforted ; for 
since Thurston’s arrival, with his delicately formed 
white hands, his own, which were large and brown, had 
caused him great anxiety ; but now he was at rest, for 
Christie herself had expressed her opinion in favor of 
less elegant hands. 

Of course Mrs. Brentwell, with the whole responsi- 
bility of the supper on her, had not a moment to spend 
in the parlor. Christie and Lestie entered as she went 
out, and there was a cheerful party soon seated around 
the fireside. 

Silas, once more immersed in bliss, was seated at a 
respectful distance from Christie. And she was so 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


185 


delighted that he had really come, that she scarcely 
dared to utter a word to him, lest he should prove to be 
a phantom that might be dispelled by human breath. 

Lestie abounded in blue ribbons, which attracted the 
doctor’s attention. 

‘‘I see that that young gentleman was true to his 
word,” he said, and rewarded you well for the stolen 
bow.” 

‘^Jim Van Pike? Of course he was: he knew 
better than to disappoint me. But that isn’t the best of 
it. See my sash ! Will. Lendrem gave me a piece of 
this. I thought I should die when he brought it ” — 

Kemember that ’Lest ? ” interrupted Paul, holding 
up an infantile daguerreotype of Christie and herself. 

Why, Paul, wiKit are you looking at them now for ? 
Put them up.” 

I won’t,” with decision and promptness. 

You’re a naughty boy.” 

I ain’t.” 

‘^Miss Lestie,” Thurston said quickly, not caring 
to witness a quarrel, believe you have a twin 
sister ?” 

Yes, I have,” looking up. 

“ I have never seen her.” 

“Yes, you have,” Lestie said. 

“ Behold me,” said Christie, smiling. 

Thurston was surprised. “ And you have another ? ” 

“An older one — Daisy. Haven’t you seen her ?” 

“Never.” 


186 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


she’s seen you/’ cried Paul; ^Midn’t I tell 
you what she said about your hands. 

Paul/’ ■ cried Lestie, indiscreetly and severely, 
^^keep still.” Another painful scene threatened. A 
sharp retort was on Paul’s lips, when the door opened 
and Daisy herself entered. 

Thurston did not look up until Horatio said by 
way of an introduction, ‘‘ This is Daisy, our eldest 
sister Dr. St. James. 

He rose then to bow with his accustomed politeness, 
but paused in his surprise, staring for one instant on 
her face. Was it possible ? Had he found her at last ? 

She held out her hand to greet him in true country 
fashion. For once words failed him. He took it 
silently and almost reverently. Hi? joy at finding that 
she was Horatio’s sister and not his betrothed was be- 
yond expression — if he had dared to express himself. 
Yet he felt inclined to embrace the youth and beg 
forgiveness for secret unkind thoughts, and promise to 
be iihrother to him in the future. 

My father was speaking of an interesting conver- 
sation you had on the church,” Horatio said, as they 
seated themselves. 

Yes. We had a very interesting talk on your 
church, and on written prayer,” returned Dr. St. James, 
a little absently, remembering — as any man would have 
done — what Paul had said of Daisy’s opinion of his 
hands, and wondering if he really told the truth. 

And you are quite convinced by this time, I sup- 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


187 


pose/’ Horatio went on, that written prayers are the 
true prayers for public worship ? ” 

By no means convinced,” the doctor said, a little 
more interested ; ^‘for your father brought up no Scrip- 
ture arguments in their favor. He only tried to show 
that they are heartfelt.” 

“ And didn’t he show it plainly ? ” Daisy said. 

Yes, I think he did.” 

And you believe now they are ? ” 

Now I do — ^yes.” 

am glad of that,” she said, earnestly; for the 
Church and her forms were dear to Daisy’s heart. 

Are you indeed ?” said Thurston, really interested 
now because she was. Then you must have as strong 
a faith in them as your father has.” 

I have and I think every one has ; and you have 
too, if you remember. ” 

think that is almost impossible. But tell me 
why you say so. Give me your reasons ; it is not often 
that I have the pleasure of discussing theology with 
ladies.” He smiled. 

Oh, I’m not discussing theology ; I could not do 
that ; I am only telling what I think,” she returned. 

Perhaps though,” she added hesitatingly, ‘^it would 
be better for me not to do so.” 

'^But I had rather you would.” 

Yes, Daisy,” Horatio said, we want to hear 
your argument.” 

Silas with the younger ones had retired to another 


188 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


part of the room. She looked timidly around before 
she spoke to make sure they were not listening. 

Horatio laughed. 

‘'They might tell father/’ she explained. 

“And he would have it in his sermon next Sunday.” 

“ Horatio, I entreat.” 

“We are waiting, Miss Brentwell,” Thurston said. 

“ Waiting I for what ? ” 

‘ ‘ Y our arguments. ” 

“ I have no arguments ; it is only what I think.” 

“ Suppose you tell us what you think,” said Horatio. 

“Every body of Christians you know,” she said to ' 
Dr. St. James, “sing hymns when they are worshiping 
God. Don’t they ? ” 

“Yes. Am I to agree to every step ? ” 

“ Yes ; or I cannot go on. Well,” (in true womanly 
fashion) “ some of those hymns are hymns of praise, 
and some are prayers. Are they not ? ” 

“ Yes. Step two.” 

“ I agree too,” said Horatio. 

“Such a hymn, (you remember it,) as ‘Jesus, 
Saviour of my soul, let me to Thy bosom fly,’ is a prayer ; 
and you have it in your collection, haven’t you ? ” 

“Yes, we have. Step three.” 

“ Oh, that is not a step. But when we sing that 
hymn we sing it from our hearts and are praying those 
words — every Christian is. So you are praying a written 
prayer when you sing. How, don’t you ? ” 

“ I had not thought of that before. I shall be care- 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


189 


ful how I sing in the future,” he said smiling. “ But 
what more. Miss Brentwell ? ” 

She hesitated. 

Yes, Daisy, we are waiting for more.” 

These are no proofs, you know,” she said, as 
though she would apologize. 

^^\Ye know it,” said the doctor; '^they are only 
interesting facts.” He was well pleased with what she 
had said, but at the same time he was half-laughing 
at her. 

And I was only going to add that when mothers 
teach their young children to' pray they always teach 
them written prayers first ; such as ^ How I lay me 
down to sleep,’ and the ^ Lord’s prayer.’ All mothers, 
whether they are Church-women or not, do this. Isn’t 
that true ? ” 

‘^As far as I know, it is. My good Presbyterian 
mother taught me and my brothers both of those prayers 
as soon as we could talk.” 

Well, isn’t it very inconsistent?” Daisy urged, 
archly. 

^^You see, doctor,” said Horatio, ^^you can get 
around a man’s argument, but never a woman’s ; they 
pin you on the spot.” 

They are no arguments,” said Daisy. 

Only facts,” said the doctor again. 

The front door closing heavily announced Mr. 
BrentweU’s return. 

“ There’s father,” cried Paul, starting up and let- 


190 


DAISY BKEJTTWELL. 


ting the pictures fall on the floor. ^‘I’ll tell him 
you’ve come.” 

But he was anticipated by the clergyman’s entering. 
And simultaneously they were summoned to tea by the 
rickety ringing of an old door bell, which had been fitted 
up by Herbert for the occasion. 

And that tea ! Can words describe it ? How faded 
the sitting-room looked to Daisy when the stylish physi- 
cian entered ! How common and poor the table was, set 
with the best dishes — so many of them were cracked. 
She had never realized before that the best tablecloth 
was so darned and mended, and she had always until 
that moment considered the china sugar bowl a model 
of beauty, and had even been proud of it — but now ! 
what could have looked more shabby ? How could her 
mother have been so careless as to have given the doctor 
the broken chair ? She heard it creak as he sat down. 
Suppose it should give way and he should fall ? She 
covertly watched every move he made to be sure he did 
not make too many. 

How she regretted that Lou, the cat, had been en- 
couraged since kittenhood to take her place at the table 
— though that place was the floor, — and make known 
her wants if not attended to immediately ! And how 
she wished she had instructed Paul some time a long 
while ago never to feed her, and had impressed the in- 
structions on his mind ! How poor their home-made 
napkin-rings must look to him ! and it was reported 
down at the store that he had such an elegant one. 


DAISY BUEOTWELL. 


191 


How she did wish that theirs were silver ! And then 
Daisy, looking at her father, saw his worn coat, and 
remembered that it was his best and that he was in 
great need of another one, and made up her mind that 
if Dr. St. James did think less of them for these signs 
of poverty he was no Christian ; and she was half 
inclined to hate him. But her charitable heart rebelled 
against such unkindness ; and to drive away these warp- 
ing, discontented thoughts, which were strange and 
new in her neart, she looked around the cheerful table, 
and saw father, mother, brothers and sisters in one un- 
broken band ; and her heart went up in a prayer of 
thankfulness as she heard their happy voices — but there 
was the cat ! She would cry, and Paul would give her 
broken bits, and Herbert, trying to make him desist, 
would make faces and mute signs to him over the table, 
which the doctor certainly saw ; and Paul, not under- 
standing them, would ask out loud what he wanted. 
And oh ! — worse than all else, when Christie, who sat 
next to Paul, gave him a quiet touch with her foot as a 
hint that he should remain silent, he called out at the 
top of his voice that she was kicking him. 

It would have been a relief to Daisy, if she had 
known that Thurston in noticing the napkin-rings, 
thought them beautiful, and decided that she must 
have made them — as she did — ^because they were so 
pretty, and that he would have preferred one of them to 
ten like his own. And it would have been something of 
a relief, too, if she had known that so far from seeing 


192 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


Hertert’g faces and signs he saw only her face ; and 
instead of looking contemptuously on the cat he did not 
see her at all or Paul’s generosity toward her, or that it 
would not have mattered so much if he had ; for he 
was so rapidly falling in love with her that forty cats 
could not have distracted his attention — no, not if one 
sat on either of her shoulders and the rest were distrib- 
uted on and under the table ; — and cats he always hated. 

The doctor remembered as he sat at the table that 
Paul had said Daisy laid it, and he admired it accord- 
ingly, which also might have afforded her some relief if 
she had known it. And when Mrs. Brentwell accident- 
ally remarked, Pm afraid, Daisy, that you didn’t make 
the tea strong enough for the doctor,” he hastened to 
say that it was the best he had ever tasted,” and be- 
lieved his own statement. That was a relief to Daisy 
from all her cares. 

Dr. St. James,” Paul cried, in the first pause in 
the conversation ; you don’t know what Mr. Green 
says about you.” 

No : but I think I should like to hear,” Thurston 
returned, smiling. am very much interested in that 
gentleman.” 

‘‘ Well,” Paul said grandly, “I just stepped into 
his store this morning to buy a quarter of a pound of 
tea and a half a pound of cheese and some sugar — how 
much sugar did I get, mother ? ” 

“It is of no account, my dear,” returned the anx- 
ious mother, while the sisters trembled. 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


193 


‘‘1 got some sugar anyway : and Mr. Green wanted 
to know if we were going to have company — ’cause I 
bought so much. Oh, I guess it was because I bought 
that half a pound o’ cheese, mother.” 

Yes, dear,” very anxiously. 

I told him, yes we were : that you and Silas were 
coming ; and what do you think he said ? ” 

That is what we are waiting to hear,” Daisy said. 

The store was pretty full, and I said you were 
coming right out loud so ’s’t they’d hear : I wa’n’t 
ashamed. Mr. Green he called me to one side, and 
whispered that we must watch you.” 

Do what ? ” cried Mr. Brentwell. 

Watch him,” repeated Paul with dignity. He 
says he’s mysterious. He wanted to know what else we 
were' going to have for tea and which of the girls the 
doctor comes to see.” 

Thurston related the short conversation he had with 
the grocer at Mrs. Morris’s. 

He will never forgive you,” said Horatio, as they 
left the table. Paul, feeling himself to be the lion of 
the assembly, continued his entertainment by introduc- 
ing the doctor to the cat, and was following the gentle- 
men and Mrs. Brentwell from the room, when Herbert 
and tlie girls, who remained in the sitting-room, called 
him back. The next fifteen minutes the three sisters 
and Herbert spent in entreaties, threatenings and ofler- 
ings of large rewards if he would refrain from telling 
family affairs with such painful plainness. 


9 


194 


DAISY BREN'TWELL. 


He was incorrigible. Herbert’s ball, Christie’s 
knife, Lestie’s bow and arrow — long coveted, and Daisy’s 
book of Fairy tales were offered, without making the 
least impression upon him. 

You ought n’t to do things you don’t want people 
to know,” he said laconically as he left the room. 

Daisy followed him into the parlor. Thurston arose 
and gave her his chair, seating himself beside her. 
Horatio and Silas were seated near : Mr. and Mrs. 
Brentwell were entertaining callers. 

I have been looking over one of Scott’s novels,” 
the doctor said to Daisy, laying his hand on the one he 
had been reading. 

Kenilworth ! ” she said. It would be my favor- 
ite if it were not for the sad ending. I did not want 
Amy Eobsart killed in that manner, and it is sadder 
still to know that it is really true.” 

read not long ago,” returned Thurston, “that 
Scott does not give a true account of her death. She 
died naturally. It divests the tale of some of its 
romance, however, and you may not enjoy it as well.” 

“I shall enjoy it more, and I am glad you told me.” 

They talked of all the dull books on the table, and of 
more recent publications ; and Thurston finding that 
she had never read Longfellow’s “Evangeline” offered 
to loan it to her, and she accepted it with all her native 
sweetness and grace. He had loaned many a book to 
many a fair maiden, but never did it give him half the 
happiness that this did. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


195 


must tell Dr. St. James and Daisy,” Horatio 
said turning to them. 

‘^Say yes first, doctor,” said Lestie. 

Yes ; I am willing for you to tell us.” 

‘^No,” cried Christie ; say you will do as we want 
you to.” 

When I know, I doubtless shall.” 

Well,” said Lestie^ Horatio will be twfenty-one on 
the twentieth of next July.” 

And we are going to celebrate it,” added Silas, as 
it should he — ” 

Silas’s father has an island just one mile long — ” 
began Horatio. 

With a house on it,” interrupted Herbert. 

Where is the island ? and what has it to do with 
Mr. BrentwelFs birthday ? ” 

The island,” said Silas, '^is in the river that runs 
by here, just a mile and a half from my father’s house.” 
Taking a hook from the table he continued, Here,” 
indicating the south-west corner, is father’s house. 
Here is the river and up here the island, and right in 
the centre of the island is a four-roomed house in which 
no one lives ; and there we propose to spend a week or 
more in honor of Horatio’s coming of age. We are to 
have hut a small party, and shall go on the nineteenth 
of July, with Mr. Brentwell’s consent.” 

He’ll be willing,” said Herbert. 

‘‘Miss Lestie has promised for Miss Bren twell,” Silas 
went on ; “ Now, doctor, will you accompany us ?” 


196 


DAISY BREIJTWELL. 


I will, thank yon, if I can make it possible, and I 
think I can.’’ .* 

Then it’s settled,” said Lestie. 

The house has some furniture in it,” said Christie, 
resuming the description. 

'^And we will have fresh supplies of provision from 
the farm every day,” added Silas. 

Besides the fish we catch,” said Horatio. 

The callers had departed, and Mr. Brentwell 
approached the group. He was soon informed of the 
project, and gave his ready consent to it. When it was 
more fully discussed and entirely approved of by every 
one the clergyman said, 

Doctor, would you like a haK-hour’s conversation 
on last week’s topic ? ” 

I should, indeed.” 

And we will go into the sitting-room,” said Chris- 
tie, that we may not disturb them, and they shall join 
us there.” 

‘^We will be with you directly,” Thurston said, as 
they went out. 

When the doctor and Silas departed at a late hour 
that evening, the former promised to call in a few days 
to examine into Daisy’s illness and prescribe for her. 
Never until the moment did he realize what a happy 
choice he made when he chose the medical profession. 
And Daisy did not dread the examination in the least. 


CHAPTEE XVIL 


“ For I would have you know, that here in the country, there is not the 
least thing can he said or done hut people will talk and find fault : indeed 
the parson must he essentially good who could bring his whole parish to give 
him a good word.” 


—Don Quixote. 



HE family at the rectory were early astir the next 


morning. Friday was Mrs. BrentwelFs weekly 
cleaning-day. On this day every room was entered, 
every particle of dust and dirt removed with such rigor, 
that it was some time before they gained courage to 
intrude again. Mr. Brentwell had enjoyed this scour- 
ing season, for it afforded him a few hours of quiet 
study in the sitting-room. But now that was over ; 
Mrs. Brentwell and the girls had completed their work 
by a thorough cleaning of that room, and the clergy- 
man in consequence had departed. An hour later 
Mrs. Brentwell and Christie were employed in the 
manufacture of some mince-pies. Daisy and Lestie 
were sewing, and the boys were — who knows where 
boys ever are ? Horatio lay upon the lounge. He had 
been reading the sole medical work that he owned : a 
pamphlet of some seventy-five pages — an interesting work 
on the diseases which the human liver is heir to. The 
book had been sent to Dr. Doreann ; but considering 
the treatment it advised altogether too modern for his 
practice, he had a short time before his death given it 


198 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


to Horatio, who had studied it at the time, and since 
the old doctor’s decease it had been his daily text hook 
— a poor substitute for the library and tutor. Every 
day he seemed to feel his loss more painfully but he 
never omitted the perusal of the pamphlet, though he 
grew to almost hate the sight of its yellow cover and 
black lettering. 

This morning he could not or would not study it. 
He threw it from him and buried his face in the pil- 
low, feeling that he would never read another word in it. 

^^What has happened?” Lestie asked. It had 
fallen at her feet, and she stooped to pick it up. 

Are you tired of your book ? ” queried Daisy, 
turning her chair to face him. 

^^Yes,” returned Horatio, ungraciously. 

Aren’t you going to study it any more ? ” said 
Lestie, carefully smoothing out the curled corners. 

^‘Ho ; never again,” said Horatio in a determined 
but smothered voice. 

Why ? ” persisted Lestie. Her brother made no 
reply, and she went on, Aren’t you going to be a 
doctor after all ? ” 

This aroused Horatio. He sat up. How can you 
ask me such a question?” he cried. ^‘Of course I’m 
not going to ; and for the simple reason that I can’t. 
Ho other one. Hot because my whole soul and heart 
are not wrapt up in it ; for they are. It has been my 
life-long desire to be a physician, and now I must give it 
up— and you know it. Why do you talk to me so ? ” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


199 


Don’t give it up, Horatio,” said Daisy, sigliiug. 
Why do you ? ” 

Why do I ! why do you ask me, you’d better say. 
How can I go on with neither books nor instructor ? 
When Dr. Doreann died I gave it up ; and here I’ve 
been dilly-dallying round the house ever since, just 
doing nothing — and not one thing in the village that 
I can do.” 

‘‘ Why, you’ve got this book to study,” said Lestie, 
turning over the pages. 

That book,” retorted Horatio, contemptuously. 
‘^I’ll burn it before I’ll read it again. What good will 
it ever do me I’d like to know ? What is one poor, 
paltry book ? It’s just nothing.” 

I thought you considered it valuable,” said Daisy, 
gently. 

So I do : but of what use is one book — just one ? 
and that a pamphlet.” 

Do you know all that is in it ? ” Lestie asked ; 
for you might read it over until you do.” 

Know it ! ” cried Horatio. I could repeat every 
word of it — backwards or any way. I could set up a 
Liver Hospital if that book contained all the necessary 
knowledge. Know it ! why Lestie I could say off any 
page that you might number. The thing runs in my 
head the whole time ; I can’t drive it away. I only 
wish I could forget it.” 

^^Is there mo way — ” began Daisy. 

There is only one way for everything,” interrupted 


200 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Horatio, beginning to pace the floor ; and that is 
money. It’s money, money, money. ^ Every door is 
barred with gold and opens but to golden keys,’ — keys 
which I shall never possess ; consequently I shall never 
possess anything. It’s money the world over. If I had 
money I could buy the books I need, and enter some 
medical college. Doubtless,” he added, bitterly, Dr. 
St. James would be able to recommend a good one.” 

‘^Father says he has a splendid library,” observed 
Lestie. 

“ There’s money again,” cried Horatio, pausing in 
his walk, and throwing out one hand as if it contained 
the said money. There’s money ! what could he do if 
he hadn’t it ? ” 

“ Yes,” added Lestie, the Van Pikes say that he 
is very, very wealthy.” 

Horatio thrust his hands in his pockets and walked 
on. '‘I wonder,” he said, with a short laugh, ^^what 
he’d say to my library. He might want to borrow it if 
he knew of its value.” 

‘‘Don’t talk that way,” said Daisy, sadly. 

“If I had flve dollars,” continued the youth, chang- 
ing Jiis^ne, — “ here’s a work I might buy, which I could 
study by myself for a long time. The doctor had it : 
he bought it a short time before he died.” He stopped 
by the window and looked out for a moment. 

“ But instead of having flve dollars,” he went on, 
“I haven’t five cents, or a respectable coat to my back.” 

Daisy and Lestie were in tears. ^ 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


201 


Don’t cry,” he said, impatiently turning away 
from them that they might not see that he did not 
always practice what he preached : “it’ll come all right 
in the end, I suppose, though it does look discouraging 
just now.” 

“ Oh yes, it will indeed,” sobbed Daisy. 

“ There’s Mrs. Wade coming in,” Horatio announced 
in a displeased tone. “I wonder what is new now. 
Lestie, please go to the door. I’m going up to my 
room to get rid of seeing her.” 

“Ho, Horatio,” said Daisy, wiping her eyes, “don’t 
go up stairs ; you will catch cold in your room, besides 
growing very despondent all alone.” 

“ I don’t want to hear her gossip.” 

“ But she may not gossip to-day.” 

“ That is simply impossible. I must go, Daisy. 
Don’t detain me. Go to the door, Lestie. Why don’t 
you ? ” 

“I won’t, if you don’t stay,” returned Lestie. 
Horatio picked the despised pamphlet from the floor, 
where Lestie had dropped it, and hastily left the room. 

Lestie determinedly kept her seat, and Christie com- 
ing from the kitchen, answered the summons. 

Mrs. Wade entered the sitting-room with the usual 
sweet and captivating smile playing around her immense 
mouth and lips. She looked very wise as she seated 
herself by tlie window to maintain a watch of the 
street — so wise that Daisy anticipated some wonderful 
revelation ; of the kind that is generally preceded by 
9 ^ 


202 


DAISY BEEJfTWELL. 


looks of amazing wisdom, and, at times, of dark mys- 
tery. She had been walking rapidly, and being a large 
person was somewhat out of breath. 

Is your marm in ? ” she panted. Christie hastened 
to summon Mrs. Brentwell, and calling out Lestie the 
two proceeded alone in the manufacture of the pies* 
It was with great reluctance that Lestie complied with 
the request ; her itching ears were impatient to hear 
what Mother Wade would disclose — for she always 
brought some new facts to light — and it was at her in- 
stigation that the door connecting the sitting-room and 
kitchen should be left ajar, that nothing might be lost. 

But it was not to impart information that the old 
lady called this morning ; it was to gain a little for 
herself — to obtain a slight foundation upon which to 
rear a mighty superstructure. 

Good morning. Mis’ Brentwell,” she said, as that 
lady entered. ‘^Busy as ever, I see. You put idle 
people to blush, I must say. Not that I’m idle, or that 
I’m a blushing. No, there ain’t a smarter worker in 
the town o’ Newfield than I be, an’ so I’ve brung up my 
Jane. She’s just like me. I was saying to her this 
morning, ‘Jane,’ says I, ‘you’re takin’ after your 
old marm in bein’ a good worker.’ ‘ Marm,’ she says, 
says she, ‘ I alwa’s wanted to.’ It’s been her hull aim, 
an’ now she can’t be beat.” 

“Is your youngest daughter at home now?” Mrs. 
Brentwell asked. 

“ Wal yes, kind o’,” returned Mrs. Wade, doubtfully. 


DAISY BREITTWELL. 


203 


You couldn’t call her to hum neither. I was sajin’ 
to her this morning, ^ Jane,’ I says, says I, ‘if any body 
was to ask me if you was to hum now-a-days, I couldn’t 
have no idee what to tell ’em,’ says I. ‘Marm,’ says 
she, ‘you wouldn’t now, would you?’ You see, she’s 
sewin’ at Mis’ Van Pike’s durin’ the day, and sleepin’ at 
home some nights, and some nights stayin’ there. Now 
she didn’t come last night, and I hain’t seen her since 
yesterday morning. It’s better’n havin’ her away off and 
never knowin’ how she’s gettin’ on. But them Van 
Pikes is dreadful worldly people. I ’most dread to have 
my Jane keep company with ’em. Laurey she’s havin’ 
a blue silk made to ketch the new doctor in. Jane says 
she axes her par questions about him the hull time, and 
he’s been up there to spend the evening twice. I heerd 
that he was here last night.” 

Mrs. Brentwell replied that he had been there the 
previous evening. 

“And Silas Thorpe too. Sakes alive! But you 
had quite a party.” 

“ Oh, no,” laughed Daisy. 

“ But I heerd you had,” persisted the old woman ; 
“a party and dancin’.” 

“Oh, the idea 1” cried Lestie, putting her head in 
at the door, “who said that ?” 

“ Wal, about every body’s sayin’ it now.” 

“ Every one in the village says that we had a party 
last night I ” repeated Daisy. “ Who could have origi- 
nated it ? ” 


204 


DAISY BBENTWELL. 


It don’t take long for things to originate in New- 
field,” said Lestie, entering the sitting-room with an 
unbaked pie in her hand ; ''it’s the most original town 
in the universe.” 

"It ain’t the party, you know,” continued Mrs. 
Wade, " but the dancin’. Folks don’t like the idee of 
dancin’ goin’ on in a minister’s house.” 

" I only wish we knew how,” cried Lestie, " and Td 
give ’em dancing in a minister’s house.” 

"La now, Lestie,” said Mrs. Wade, "your ’pa 
wouldn’t let you. There’s my Jane, she never ’speri- 
enced religion, but she says to me this morning, she 
says, 'Marm, I never could dance like them Van Pikes 
do,’ she says. ' It nigh breaks my heart to see Laurey 
do it,’ an’ my Jane ain’t no professor. I jes’ feel as if 
I’d missed my calling when I wasn’t a man. I’d been a 
parson sure.” 

"What makes you say that my father wouldn’t 
allow me to dance,” cried Lestie impatiently, "when 
you said before that we had danced last night ? ” 

Mother Wade answered not. Lestie’s logic was 
beyond her depth, but she mentally reeorded the girl’s* 
impudence to repeat it at the next call. 

" Lestie,” Mrs. Brentwell said quietly, " I think the 
pies in the oven need attention.” 

Lestie flounced out of the room. 

"Yes,” continued Mrs. Wade, "I ought for certain 
to ’ave been a parson. I could have writ the handsomest 
sermons that ever saw paper. My poor man he used to 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


205 


say to me, he did, ^ Mother,’ he’d say, ‘ you’ve got a power 
o’ tongue, you’d give a sinner the longest kind o’ settin’ 
down, longer’n any parson.’ An’ I know it. I was 
sayin’ to my Jane this morning, ^Jane,’ I says, ^ when 
they has dancin’ at the minister’s, it works me.’ 

‘ Marm,’ says she, ‘ it does me.’ An’ my Jane 
ain’t no professor. She’d been tuk into the Baptists 
long ago, but she don’t like Mr. Borne’s prayers ; she 
thinks there ain’t no religion in ’em. She was a sayin’ 
to me this morning, ‘Marm,’ says she, ‘I can’t go Mr. 
Borne’s prayers noways. I can’t for sure, marm,’ she 
says. ‘Jane,’ I says, ‘join the ’Piscopals — like your 
marm has.’ 

“ ‘ Marm,’ says she, ‘ I can’t ; that white gownd of 
Mr. Brentwell’s keeps me from havin’ religion when I go 
to St. Paul’s.’ You see my Jane she’s makin’ dresses 
all the week, and when Sunday comes around she don’t 
want to see the parson’s white dress, and be reminded 
of her sewin’. She wants to rest her thinkin’ too. 

“ ‘ Marm,’ she says, says she, ‘I keep thinkin’ about 
how much stuff it took, and how the skirt sets, an’ all 
them things.’ I’ve talked and talked to her, but I can’t 
make no ’Piscopal out of her.” 

' “I don’t think that I have seen you at service in 
some time, Mrs. Wade,” said Mrs. Brentwell ; “perhaps 
your daughter would come if you did.” 

“Wal now. Mis’ Brentwell, since you spoke. I’ll 
jes’ tell you how ifc is. I’m a poor hard workin’ woman, 
as you well know. It’s up I get Monday morning, and 


206 


DAISY BKEHTWELL. 


work hard until Saturday night, only stoppin’ a hit 
sometimes to run into a neighbor’s for a minute’s chat ; 
so by the time Sunday comes I’m clean worn out, and 
I serve the Lord at home restin’. Sunday was made to 
rest in.” 

‘^Sunday is a day of rest,” returned Mrs. Brentwell, 
gravely, ^‘a day of rest for our tired bodies, therefore 
we cease to work ; but that is not all, Mrs. Wade ; it is 
not our bodies alone that are tired from the week’s labor, 
but our souls are weary from the encounter with the 
world, and need rest and strengthening infinitely more 
than our bodies do. And where can they be strength- 
ened but with God ? and where can we seek God but in 
His sanctuary ? ” 

An’ so I say, mum, I was tellin’ Jane this morning 
that Sunday was given us to rest in and to serve the 
Lord. ^Jane,’ says I, ^ never forget that.’ ‘Marm,’ 
she says, says she, 'I won’t.’ An’ my Jane ain’t no 
professor.” 

But we cannot serve the Lord at home when it is 
possible to attend service, and mingle with His saints in 
His worship. He will not accept the lazy, indifferent 
praise that would be given Him in our private houses, 
sitting around in an idle manner. Although the hands 
are idle the Lord’s day is not kept holy ; the heart, 
which He demands, remains with the world. Our 
thoughts, which should be all His, are with the 
week’s labor.” 

That’s jest what I’ve said to Jane time and again, 

O . ^ 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


207 


Mis’ Brentwell. ^Jane,’ I’ve said, ^be sure and read 
your Bible on Sundays, an’ remember and keep the 
Sabbath day holy like your marm alwa’s taught you to.’ 
‘ Marm,’ says she, ‘ I will. I alwa’s read the Bible on 
Sundays, an’ think on pious things.’ ” 

Surrounded as you are by all the week-day asso- 
ciations, I should think it impossible for you to keep 
your thoughts on God alone.” 

‘‘ Oh no, mum ; it’s easy as eatin’.” 

But, Mrs. Wade, if you love your Saviour enough to 
sit one whole day reading His word and meditating 
upon Him, you certainly love Him enough to obey His 
commands, and not to forsake the assembling.” 

That’s so. Mis’ Brentwell, that’s jes’ so, but when 
a body needs rest, you know, they likes to lay round, an’ 
not be dressed an’ trottin’ out.” 

There is another way in which to look at it, in a 
more worldly point of view. You do not rest at home 
even as you do in church. At home you are constantly 
reminded of your toil ; you go over the same beaten 
track that you went over on the week day, and you 
arise unrefreshed on Monday morning for the old round 
of duties. Your heart has not been cheered on Sunday 
by blessed communion with the Saints, nor are your 
thoughts one moment taken from your tasks.” 

Jes’ so, jes’ so,” assented Mrs. Wade, nodding her 
head energetically. 

While if you had attended the services of God, 
your mind would have been upon Him, and your 


208 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


thoughts filled by -Him during the whole day. You 
would have gone out of the old beaten way and rested in 
His bosom, and been refreshed and strengthened for an- 
other week’s toil. For our own selfish sake, if there were 
no other consideration, it is better to attend church.” 

Jes’ so, an’ if it wasn’t for Ike’s bein’ away from 
home all the week an’ cornin’ home Sundays, nobody 
could never say I was away from service. You see when 
one o’ your boys is away up to Fairhope the hull week, an’ 
Jes’ comes to see his marm on Sundays, why I take it 
that it is my duty to stay with him and see to him.” 

“ But Mrs. Wade, is not that putting your son before 
God?” 

Wal, no ; not that I see. It’s a mother’s place to 
be takin’ care o’ her children and see to their com- 
fort. ” 

JS-^ere^s no commandment to that effect in the 
Bible, while there is one that we shall keep the Lord’s 
day holy. And we are commanded no^ to forsake the 
assembling of ourselves together.” 

‘‘Jes’ so.” 

“We have not the time to spend away from the 
Lord’s house,” Mrs. Brentwell continued earnestly, 
trying to make some impression on the old woman’s 
heart. “ The life we now live is but a fragment of our 
being, compared with the eternity that we shall enter 
upon hereafter. It is like a grain of dust compared with 
the whole earth — like a drop of rain to the showers 
that fall.” 


DAISY BKEI^TWELL. 


209 


‘^Jes’ so, Mis’ Brentwell, I was tellin’ that to Jane 
this morning.” 

‘‘ That eternity will yet be new when we have spent 
ages in it ; when thousands of years have rolled on, and, 
looking back, our life will be hut the faintest speck ; 
and on that speck, as it were, all depends. Do you not 
think, Mrs. Wade, that then we will remember the 
Sundays upon earth, and will have cause either to rejoice 
that we spent them as God has commanded, or to bitterly 
bewail that in our blind sinfulness we wasted them ? ” 

Jes’ so.” 

I hope to see you at service next Sunday with your 
son and daughter,” Mrs. Brentwell said, smilingly. 

Wal, now, that’s more’n I can promise. 

Would you like Sunday to be abolished, Mrs. 
Wade?” 

Ma’am ?” 

Would you be better pleased if there were no 
Sunday ?” 

^^Wal, I reckon not,” said Mrs. Wade, laughing 
until she shook her fat sides. ISTo Sunday ! Ike a 
stayin’ away all the time to Fairhope ! ” 

Would you be willing, then, for all the churches to 
be shut up on that day ; willing for them to never have 
any service in them ? ” 

‘‘IS'o, I wouldn’t. Mis’ Brentwell. Be I a heathen ?” 
staring in surprise. 

You approve of church services and wish them to 
be kept up, but depend upon others to do it. If every 


210 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


one remained away you must know that there could be 
no service.’’ 

‘^I’m only one o’ the crowd.” 

But the crowd is made up of individuals. Your 
presence is as much as that of any one other person. If 
you do truly desire that St. Paul’s Church shall be 
opened every Sunday for divine services, you will attend, 
and do your part toward maintaining them.” 

I hain’t no idee that my stayin’ away will shut the 
church up, or my goin’ will keep it agoin’.” 

But if all absent themselves, the church must be 
closed ; and that ^ all ’ is made up of single individuals.” 

Jes’ so.” 

‘‘ And,” continued Mrs. Brentwell, your presence 
there will influence others to come ; every one has influ- 
ence with a certain number.” 

Jes’ so, jes’ so. I was tollin’ Jane this morning 
that very thing. ‘ Jane,’ I says, ‘ when them Van Pikes 
is dancin’ don’t you be lookin’ on ; it’s only encouragin’ 
them.’ ^Marm,’ she says, ‘I won’t.’ You see, if I’d 
’ave been a parson, I’d ’ave preached agin dancin’ the 
hull o’ my life. Now, wouldn’t you. Mis’ Brent- 
well?” 

^‘I don’t think that I should,” replied Mrs. Brent- 
well, slowly rocking her chair ; there are too many 
evils in the world to be preached against. We need not 
attack a harmless pleasure. If we would think less of 
our neighbor’s feet, and guard our own tongues more 
closely, there would be much less sin done. It is the 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


211 


the tongue that is a fire, and the tongue it is that can- 
not be tamed.” 

Jes’ so ; but that ain’t as wicked, to my thinking, 
as dancin’. I’ve alwa’s warned my Jane agin it. A 
little chat with a neighbor don’t do no harm, but danc- 
in’ is the beginning of all evil.” 

‘‘ It is against these ‘ chats ’ that we read so much in 
the Bible, while there is nothing against dancing. 
Indeed, Mrs. Wade, the tongue does a thousand times 
more harm than the feet.” 

Jes’ so,” agreed Mrs. Wade. It’s about time for 
me to he goin’. I got so interested with arguing with 
you that I ’most forgot what I came for. I was a workin’ 
up to Miss Nettie’s all day yesterday. Poor Miss Nettie, 
she’s a failin’ fast. To my mind she ain’t long for 
this earth, an’ I was tellin’ her so. ^ Miss Nettie,’ says 
I, ‘ it’s time you was thinking o’ your latter end.’ She 
didn’t say nothin’, she only looked at me queer. ^ There’s 
nothing like being prepared,’ says I. When I was 
coming away, she said she wanted to see Horatio, an’ 
she’d be obliged if I’d send one o’ the hoys up to tell 
him ; but I thought I’d come myself, seein’ I hadn’t 
heerd how Daisy is, an’ to tell you what folks are sayin’ 
about your dancin’.” 

When is Horatio to go ?” Daisy asked. 

’Most any time to-day’ll do. She wasn’t particular. 
Now I’ll be goin’.” 

‘‘Come again soon, Mrs. Wade,” Mrs. Brentwell said, 
as they arose, “and we will talk more of church-going.” 


212 


DAISY BREi^TWELL. 


I’ll drop in most any time, thank you. I want to 
see Mr.Brentwell anyhow. Good morning, folks.” 

Good morning ; ” and the door shut after Mother 
Wade. 

Christie and Lestie returned to the sitting-room, and 
announced that the pies were done. 

^^The table must be set immediately,” said Mrs. 
Brentwell ; ‘^your father will soon be coming home.” 

^‘It is after twelve,” added Daisy; ^^and there are 
the boys now.” 

^‘Didn’t Mrs. Wade say that Miss Nettie wants to 
see Horatio ? ” Lestie asked. 

^‘Yes,” said Daisy, springing up; ^^and I must 
tell him. Poor boy ! he has been up in the cold all 
this while.” 

She found him in his room, lying upon the bed with 
his face buried in the pillow. 

She laid her hand on his shoulder. 

‘^Horatio, are you asleep ?” 

^^No,” was the muffled reply. 

Come down stairs now ; Mrs. Wade has gone, and 
dinner will be ready soon.” 

don’t want any dinner.” 

‘‘ But you must eat. Mrs. Wade came for you after 
all,” she added. 

What did she want with me ? I’m glad you didn’t 
call me.” 

It wasn’t worth while. It is only that Miss Nettie 
sent for you to go see her.” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


213 


Miss Nettie Doreann ? ” cried Horatio, raising his 
face from the pillow for the first time. 

‘‘You are to go this afternoon.’’ 

“ I ought to have gone before. What does she want 
to see me about ? ” sitting up. 

“ I qan’t tell. Will you go ? ” 

“I can’t get out of it,” he returned, as they left the 
room together. It would have taken a great deal of 
persuasion to have kept him from complying with the 
old lady’s request, however. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


My prayer hath power with Gk)d.’* 

— Chaklbs Wkslet. 

T here was nothing strange in Miss Nettie’s sending 
for Horatio ; she had frequently sent for Mrs. 
Brentwell and the young ladies since her brother’s 
death, and had several times expressed a desire to see 
Horatio ; for he was a great favorite with her. But he 
had delayed going with a youth’s natural dislike to pay- 
ing visits. 

If she calls me to account for my past neglect, 
I sha’n’t have a word to say in self-defence,” he said, 
as he prepared to go. sha’n’t stay five minutes,” 
he added. 

You should have gone before,” Mrs. Brentwell said, 
brushing his coat vigorously. 

Give her my love,” Lestie said, as he left the room, 
and tell her I’ll take those satin gowns, when shb is 
through with them.” 

He found Miss Nettie seated alone in the little dull 
parlor, idly watching the passers-by. She greeted him 
almost joyfully. 

‘‘Dear boy,” she said, taking both his hands in hers, 
“ I’m so glad you’ve come to see old Miss Nettie at last.” 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


215 


Miss Nettie,” he said, as he seated himself beside 
her, it is a shame I have not come before, and there is 
no excuse for my neglect.” 

She retained one of his warm hands in her own with- 
ered one. You have not been here since — she began ; 
then after a moment’s hesitation went on, ‘‘ not since 
David went away.” 

But I will come. Miss Nettie,” he said impulsively ; 

will come often now.” 

I sent for you to-day,” she went on quietly, to tell 
you a few last things. I shall not be here long, Horatio.” 

‘^Oh, Miss Nettie, don’t, don’t say that.” 

Why should I wish to linger here ? there are no 
ties for me on earth, and I am a lone, old woman.” 
There was a pause, then she asked quickly, What are 
you doing ? ” 

What am I doing ? ” he repeated. 

Are you studying ? ” 

No ma’am,” he said simply. 

Are you employed during the day ? ” 

No, Miss Nettie, I am not. I am doing nothing 
but sitting around the house,” he said, with ill-con- 
cealed bitterness. 

And it troubles you ? ” 

Indeed, it does.” 

I know it, child, I know it. Have you no books ? ” 

Not one.” 

‘‘Poor boy,” Miss Nettie said tenderly. “I have 
been very thoughtless ; I have been so taken up with 


216 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


my own sorrow that I have forgotten every one. There 
are those books of David’s lying unused, while you have 
needed them so much. Why didn’t you ’remind me ? ” 
^^How could I, Miss Nettie ? I did not dare for 
fear of paining you.” 

At first it would have pained me, but now it pains 
me to see them neglected,” she returned, clasping his 
hand more closely. ‘‘They are yours, dear Horatio, 
your own. There ! child* don’t thank me ; for I’m 
going to demand payment.”' She smiled, as she waved 
one hand to enforce his silence; “and that payment 
may be beyond you. I want you to study here in the 
old office, and keep me a little company in these lonely 
days. I shall not disturb you often, dear ; only some- 
times I will put my head in to see if you are thera : as I 
did when David sat with you. There, don’t thank me ! ” 
“ Thank you ! thank you ! I will, I must. Miss 
Nettie, I must thank you : you are so kind. And the 
greatest kindness of all is your allowing me to study 
here in the office. Oh, Miss Nettie, you don’t know 
how troubled I have been about my studies. I feared 
I never could go on with them, having no tutor, no 
books and no money ; and the doctor is so different 
from your brother. He is kind but then he is not 
Dr. Doreann.” 

“He is a kind, good man, Horatio,” she said, sigh- 
ing ; “and the village folks talie wonderfully to him.” 

“ Has he been to see you ?” 

“He drops in for a moment almost every day.” 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


217 


He does ? and I have been so neglectful, when you 
are so kind.” 

There, there, don’t talk of it, child : you will come 
often now — ^you will be here every day, too.” 

shall come early, and stay late. And you will 
bring your work or book, and sit in the office with me.” 

‘^I’m afraid I should be a great bother,” she said, 
smiling again. 

Indeed, you would not. Think of the crowd that 
would be in the room if I were to study at home, and 
every one talking at the same time. Oh, Miss Nettie ! ” 
he cried suddenly, ^^how can I thank you for your 
kindness ? How can I ever repay you ? ” 

^^You repay me well,” she answered, ^‘by being 
with pie. I’ve been so alone, Horatio, and your presence 
will be a comfort to me. The books are of no use to 
me, you know.” 

^‘And,” he went on eagerly, ‘^I shall not only keep 
you from being lonely, but I will do all your errands ; I 
will bring coal and water, and cut wood, and make 
your fires.” 

'‘Dear, dear boy! I cannot think of having your 
studies interrupted in that manner.” 

" It will not be an interruption but a recreation. I 
shall do it, Miss Nettie, any way.” 

" We’ll see.” 

" Of course we will,” he returned gleefully. " And 
now,” he added, rising, "I must go. Mother and the 
girls will be so happy when they hear of your kindness, 
10 


218 


DAISY BEEl^TWELL. 


that I am impatient to tell them. Daisy has worried 
about it as much as I have, but Christie has had strong 
faith that God would bring it so that I might resume 
my studies — just as He has done.” 

One moment, dear.” Miss Nettie drew a large Avallet 
from her pocket. ^^Sit down again. There is some- 
thing here that may be necessary some day. You see,” 
she said, taking a paper from it, and spreading it out on 
her lap, while Horatio resumed his seat ; you see, if 
I should die suddenly, and the books were here, you 
could not claim them. So Mr. Calfort drew this up for 
me, and I signed it. Eead it.” 

Horatio did so. It was merely a formal bestowal on 
him of all the medical works once owned by Dr. Doreann. 

'‘This is very kind and very thoughtful of you,” he 
said. "It would never have occurred to me that such a 
thing was necessary.” 

" It may not be ; but it is best for you to have it ; 
then there can be no trouble.” 

•He folded it up, and put it in one of his vest pockets. 
"Good bye, he said, kissing her forehead respectfully, 
almost reverently. 

" Good bye. Miss Nettie, I thank you again for your 
kindness. I shall be here early to-morrow. Please save 
your errands.” 

Miss Nettie, seeing that he really desired it, said that 
she would; and Horatio departed. He had a lighter 
heart than he had had for many weeks as he walked 
quickly down the street, whistling to himself. When he 


N DAISY BREI^TWELL. 219 

came witliin sight of the rectory, he resumed his former 
heart-broken expression to hide his good news until he 
saw fit for his tongue to communicate it — ^not his face. 
He slammed the front door after him in the same impa- 
tient manner that had been his of late. The boys had 
returned from school, and were seated on the floor by 
the fire, causing great quantities of gingerbread and 
apples to disappear with fearful rapidity. Mrs. Brent- 
well was sewing, Lestie was sitting idle, and Christie 
was reading, seated by the window. 

^^Well,” cried Lestie, the moment Horatio entered 
the sitting-room door, ^^what did she want ?” 

He threw himself on the lounge, after the manner of 
one whose last earthly comfort has fled, and now only 
waits to flee himself — eyen into the arms of death. 

What did she want ? ” repeated Lestie, impatiently, 
as he did not reply ; can’t you tell us ? ” 

She wanted to see me ; and she saw me.” 

Mrs. Brentwell looked up, and Christie stopped 
reading. 

^^What for ?” persisted Lestie. 

“Do tell her,” cried Paul, speaking one word for his 
sister, and two for himgelf ; “she’ll tease you till you do.” 

“If you go out of the room, may be I will,” returned 
Horatio, who understood Paul. 

“ Why can’t I hear ? ” 

“I didn’t know that you would care to.” 

“You might tell her,” muttered Paul. 

“ Oh, I don’t want to hear ! ” said Lestie. 


220 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


‘‘ Then Til tell you. I gave her your love, and told 
her what you said about the satin dresses, and she said 
that she was done with all except one — a yellow one, 
which she is to wear to a party in Fairhope next week ; 
you are welcome to the others at any time.” 

Oh, Horatio ! ” cried Christie, while Lestie 
deigned* no reply. 

^^Are you going after ’em Lest?” asked Paul, 
eagerly, not doubting one syllable. At that moment, 
Daisy, who had been in the parlor secretly reviewing 
‘‘ Kenilworth,” entered. 

What is the matter ? ” she asked, seeing Lestie’s 
pouting lips. 

“What is the matter !” cried Horatio ; “why Miss 
Nettie has sent Lestie the dresses she wanted, and now 
she don’t like it. ” 

“That can’t be true ; you are teasing her.” 

“You can read for yourself,” returned Horatio, tak- 
ing the paper that Miss Nettie had given him from his 
pocket, and giving it to Daisy; “here is her letter 
about it.” 

Lestie sprang up and looked over Daisy’s shoulder, 
believing him for the moment. 

“ Oh, Horatio, I’m so glad ! ” cried Daisy, when she 
had read it. 

“ I can’t make anything out of it,” said Lestie, tak- 
ing the paper in her own hands. 

“ Dear brother, how happy you must be,” Daisy said, 
throwing her arms around his neck. 


DAISY BRE^TTWELL. 


221 


What is it ? ” Mrs. Brentwell and Christie asked. 

How queer you are, Horatio ! ” Herbert observed. 

Paul, with his usual ceremony, snatched the paper 
from Lestie. 

Give that back,’’ she cried, springing for it. 

‘‘If you tear that, woe be unto you,” said Horatio, 
rescuing it with difficulty. “ Now if you all listen. I’ll 
read it to you.” The audience was calmed in an instant, 
and he proceeded to give a most joyful reading. 

Mrs. Brentwell wiped tears from her eyes ; Christie’s 
heart went up in a prayer of thanksgiving. Lestie was 
the first to speak. 

“There ain’t a word about dresses in there.” 

“ Of course not,” returned Horatio. 

“You tell awful stories.” 

“ Lestie, is that the way in which you rejoice with 
your brother ? ” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

“ I couldn’t be so selfish, Lestie,” said Daisy, reading 
the precious paper over again. 

“ I’m not selfish, but he teases me,” said Lestie, with 
tears in her eyes. “ I’m as glad as any of you.” 

“ Of course you are, little girl,” said Horatio, kissing 
her. “ I didn’t mean to tease you, but I was so happy 
that I had to do something to let off steam, and give 
vent to my feelings.” 

“A poor way, son, to place stumbling-blocks in the 
way of others.” 

“ I know it, mother ; I’ll be better after this,” he 
said, dragging Lestie by her waist to Christie’s window. 


122 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Christie, ho said gravely, going to thank you for 
all this.” 

‘‘Why me?” she asked, looking up with a bright 
smile, as he laid his hand on her head. 

“You, dear sister, for your prayers of faith,” he 
whispered, while Lestie wished he wouldn’t. “ I know 
they brought those books to me.” 

“ Then, certainly, I am not the one to thank, but He 
who sent them.” 

“ I have not forgotten that.” 

“Dr. St. James won’t like it,” said Paiul. 

“ Like what ? ” Herbert asked. 

“ Horatio’s setting up for a doctor.” 

“ I’m not going to ; I don’t know enough.” 

“ What’s the use of knowing so much ? ” returned 
Paul, “ I don’t mean to.” 

“ When are the books coming ? ” asked Christie. 

“ Oh, I had forgotten the best part of it,” said Hora- 
tio, taking an apple from the basket. “I am to study 
in the old ofl&ce ; for the double purpose of keeping Miss 
Nettie company, and having a quiet room to study in.” 

“ Miss Nettie is so kind,” said Christie. 

“ I wish your father had a quiet nlace to study in,” 
said Mrs. Brentwell. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


“ I have a name, a little name, 
Uncadenced for the ear ; t 
Unhonored by ancestral claim, 
Unsanctified by prayer and psalm 
The solemn font anear.” 


— E. B. Brownuto. 



WEEK had elapsed before Thurston again found 


time to call at the rectory. A busy week, and it 
had seemed to him a long one. During that time he 
had been called upon and interviewed by all that portion 
of the male population of Kewfield that he had not met 
before. He had returned calls, visited the sick, and 
when he entered the gate of the rectory that Saturday 
afternoon he felt that he knew every living person in 
Xewfield, and that he had heard the history of every de- 
parted one ; and he was weary with so much knowledge. 

Neither the clergyman nor his wife were at home, 
Horatio was at Miss Nettie’s, no one knew where Paul 
was, and Christie was also out. Daisy and Lestie were 
sewing in the cheerful sitting-room, while Herbert read 
to them. They had become so interested in the story 
that neither perceived Thurston as he walked up the 
path leading to the door. 

Pshaw ! what does any one come for ?” said Les- 
tie impatiently, as the knock was heard. Go to the 


224 


DAISY BREiq-TWELL. 


door, Herbie, and tell them we are not at home. Giye 
me the hook to keep the place.” 

“ I didn’t see any one come in the gate,” said Daisy, 
looking onfc to be certain of seeing the next one who came 
in. Herbert gave Lestie the book, and went to the door. 

Dr. St. James,” Lestie announced, listening atten- 
tively ; and he’s, coming in. Oh, where’ll I put this old 
dress ? ” referring to the article she was mending. 

Why keep it in your hand, or lay it on the table ; 
he won’t notice,” returned Daisy. 

I guess not — such an old thing as this. I’ll sit on 
it. How don’t ask me to get up once.” 

“ I won’t,” Daisy laughed. Lestie hastily folded it up, 
and placed it on her chair, where she sat attentively read- 
ing when Thurston entered the room the next moment. 

He shook hands with them, and Daisy rose to place 
him a chair, but Lestie remained seated. 

He inquired after Mr. Brentwell, and seemed disap- 
pointed that he was absent. 

I have been trying,” he said, after some other con- 
versation, ‘Ho get here all of the past week, but I found 
it impossible ; my time has been so very much taken up. 
I had not forgotten that I was to examine your lungs. 
Miss Brentwell, and if it is convenient to you I will do 
so now.” 

Daisy expressed her willingness ; Lestie and Herbert 
looked anxiously on. 

“Well,” he said, when Daisy was at length, allowed 
to sit down, “ Neither of your lungs is diseased — ” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


225 


Aren’t they really ?” cried Herbert, joyfully. 

No ; but the left one is weak. It can be strength- 
ened however ; it must be, for if not it may be dis- 
eased soon.” He seated himself. 

“ Well,” said Daisy, looking up, what am I to do ? ” 

The best thing for you would be a trip South,” 
said Thurston. -v 

cannot go,” Daisy said sadly. ^^Is there 
nothing else ? ” 

Yes, of course,” he said in a doubtful tone. 

Yes, you shall go, Daisy,” said Herbert; ‘^Horatio 
will take you, I know.” 

‘^And I’ll go along to take care of you,” added 
Lestie obligingly. 

Thurston was silent. 

'^What else?” Daisy asked, after a moment of 
silence. 

What else ? Nothing else is needed,” he said. 

‘^But I cannot go, Dr. St. James,” returned Daisy, 
in a trembling voice. 

‘^But you must,” returned Herbert; ‘^father will 
want you to.” 

That may be,” she said simply. 

‘^It will be necessary,” the physician went on, ^^for 
you to take a great deal of out-door exercise in fine 
weather, and never to go out in a storm.” 

Yes sir,” hopelessly. 

^^Do you sew much ?” 

^^A great deal.” 

10 * 


22G 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


It would be well for you to do as little as possible. 
For the present I can only tell you to be very careful not 
to catch cold; and/’ he added smilingly, ‘‘we don’t 
know wdiat may happen before the summer is over. It is 
not impossible that you may go South ; we will hope so.” 

Oh, it is impossible,” said Daisy. 

‘^I think it is 4 |K)ssible,” said Herbert, remembering 
Horatio’s books and the answered prayer. 

Thurston had secretly determined that she should go, 
that he himself should take her — not as her physician 
alone ; but he was not prepared at present to state the 
terms, so he said no more about it. He drew a small book 
from his pocket. 

This is ^ Evangeline,’ Miss Brentwell,” giving it 
to her. 

She thanked him as she took it. 

What a beautiful face,” she cried, opening to the 
frontispiece. 

‘^The heroine Evangeline.” 

Daisy studied the dark, sad face silently. Lestie 
inquired after Silas in the meantime. 

“ He went home last night,” said Thurston, to see 
his father about the picnic in July, and to make some 
arrangements.” 

He’s in a hurry,” said Herbert. 

So I told him ; but he is very impatient for the 
time to come, and he thinks he will ^hasten it by having 
all matters well attended to. At least there will be 
no delay then.” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


227 


^‘1 wish it were July now,” returned Lestie ; ‘‘1 can 
hardly wait for the summer.” 

^‘It will soon be here,” said Thurston, ^^too soon, it 
may he. I never wish for time to pass. Miss Lestie ; I 
don’t think it is right to do so ; not only because it is 
not ours, and because every moment is so valuable, and 
such a precious gift of itself, butiwe^re unconsciously 
wishing many lives away. There are thousands alive 
and well' this day, who will be dead on that bright July 
day, when we sail up the river with Silas.” 

Yes,” said Lestie, I know that.” 

^^It is not impossible that one of us may be taken.” 

Not Daisy ? ” said Herbert quickly. 

Thurston smiled. 

Your sister is in no more immediate danger than 
you are yourself. Master Herbert. I once read a poem,” 
he added, on this subject, that checked all longings for 
time to pass. It was called, ^ If we knew.’ Have you 
ever heard it ? ” ■ 

Lestie replied that she had not. 

Daisy looked up from her book. 

Can you repeat it ? ” she asked. 

‘^I don’t remember the whole of it, but I will repeat 
what I do remember. The first verse is, 

‘ If we knew the woe and heartache 
Waiting us down the road, 

If our lips could taste the wormwood, 

If our backs could feel the load, 

Would we waste the day in wishing 
For a time that ne’er can be ? 

Would we wait in such impatience 
For our ships to come from sea ? 


228 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


And the last two are, 

* Lips from which the seal of silence 
None but God can roll away. 

Never blossomed in such beauty 
As adorns the mouth to-day ; 

And^ sweet words that freight our memory 
With their beautiful perfume, 

Come to us in sweeter accents 
' Throng the portals of the tomb. 

* Let us gather up the sunbeams 
Lying all around our path ; 

Let us keep the wheat and roses. 

Casting out the thorns and chaff 
Let us find our sweetest comfort 
In the blessing of to-day. 

With a patient hand removing 
All the briars from our way.” 

It is very beautiful,” Daisy said, but Lestie, not 
understanding or appreciating, still longed for that bright 
summer day. 

The doctor took the “ Evangeline ” which Daisy had 
laid dowm when listening to the poem. 

May I read you a little ? ” he asked. 

Oh do,” said Daisy, ‘‘we would like to hear it.” 

“ Yes,” added Herbert, “do read to us.” 

And so he did — for nearly an hour, while his hearers 
sat almost breathless. Herbert drew a long sigh as he 
laid the book on the table again. All this time, let it be 
remembered, Lestie had not had it in her hands and the 
waiting had been hard for her. While Daisy and the 
young physician talked of the poem, she, forgetting the 
soiled dress that she sat upon, left her seat to obtain it. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


229 


The dress, however, did not forget her, but hooked itself 
in some ingenious manner to the bottom of the one she 
wore, and dragged after her as she walked, forming a 
magnificent train, which considering her admiration for 
sweeping robes should have please^J^r. She thought 
that her dress felt heavy around the ibottom, but she was 
so intent upon getting possession’' of .^Evangeline ” that 
she did not heed, until Herbert said. 

What’s that caught into your dress, Lestie ? ” 
Then she turned and saw it. How she wished the floor 
would open, and let her gently into the cellar ! Why had 
she forgotten ? She thought of it but a moment before ! 

‘‘Take it off,” she whispere'd to Herbert. Daisy 
had seen the train from the first, and had done her best 
to engage the doctor’s whole attention ; but that was 
impossible, attentive as he appeared to be ; for Lestie 
stood directly in front of him, and he was one of those 
unfortunate persons who see all and everything that 
transpires around them. We often meet such persons 
ourselves. Every thing about them is always just as it 
should be ; try our best, we can find no fault, and we 
do wish sometimes that we could — something that we 
could laugh over in secret, as we know they have laughed 
at us. It is before these persons that all our mishaps 
occur. Their presence often leads us on to blunders. 

How Lestie wished, as she returned to her seat, still 
holding the book, that something would happen to make 
Thurston — stylish, elegant Thurston — appear ridiculous. 
She was very angry with him ; for she fancied that he 


230 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


wanted to laugli at her : no matter if he^did look grave 
and was so dignified, he didn’t feel it, and he did feel 
like laughing at her — that was certain, and she never 
woiild forgive him — that was certain too ! 


at the fly-leaf, as was her cus- 
vas written upon it. To my 
orah St. James,” was what she 



She opened 
tom, to see whosg 
son, with the lov^ 
read. 


To my son, with the love of Deborah St. James,’ 
she repeated aloud. Do you hear that, Daisy ? Debo- 
rah St. James.” 

Is it Deborah ? ” said Herbert, looking over his 
sister’s shoulder. 

Indeed ! ” said Daisy, wishing Lestie was more 
polite. 

Ain’t it queer ? ” continued Lestie, forgetting her 
late train. 

There are many persons by that name,” Daisy 
returned quietly. 

Are there ? ” said Herbert, with his eyes still on 
the delicate writing. I thought you were the only one.” 

Why no.” 

“ Deborah ! ” repeated Thurston, who had been an- 
noyed by the use of the adjective queer,” not under- 
standing its application. Deborah ! is that your 
Christian name. Miss Brentwell ? ” 

^^Yes,” Lestie answered kindly for her; ^‘but we 
never call her by it because mother don’t like it ; and 
we all think it’s ugly.” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


231 


""I am snrpmed. It is one of the most beautiful 
names in the world to me/’ said Thurston, thinking of 
his mother. 

‘^AYell, mother don’t like it,” said Lestie conQlu- 
sively, and we don’t.” 

‘"And you, Miss Brent well 

“ I scarcely know,” answered ij^fty. One hour be- 
fore she would have declared that IT was the ugliest 
name woman ever answered to : “I have never been 
called by it, and it does not seem as though it were 
mine. I might like it if I heard it often.” 

If Paul had been present, he would have unhesi- 
tatingly reminded her of the time she hid his ball for 
calling her Deborah before some company; and how, 
when he continued to call her by it for spite, (having 
found the ball after diligent search) she had broken off 
three of his finest sun-flowers — but that was last sum- 
mer, and Paul was not in the house, but just coming in 
the gate. 

“And so during all these years of your life they 
have not alloiwed you the privilege of being called by 
your own name ? That is too bad. Miss Brentwell, if 
I were called by any other name than my own I should 
not bear it so quietly,” he laughed, as he arose. “ At 
any rate,” he added, drawing his overcoat on, “ I shall 
do all in my power to restore Miss Deborah Brentwell 
to health, but for Miss Daisg I promise nothing.” 

A loud bang at the front door, an Indian whoop, 
kicks on the sitting-room door, and Paul stood before 


232 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


them. He was delighted to see the doctor, and greeted 
him demonstratively. Don’t go now I’ve come,” he 
said, throwing his hat at the cat. 

I’m not going because you have come,” said Thurs- 
ton, ''but Mrs. Barker’s supper will be waiting.” 

" Stay here to siyjper. We’ve got lots of ginger- 
bread. Mother made some to-day, and she made me a 
horse and a man.” 

" Thank you. Your offer is tempting, but I cannot 
remain. Good afternoon, Miss Brentwell,” shaking 
hands with her. " Give my respects to your father, and 
tell him that I am not an Episcopalian yet. Kemember 
me to your mother, and your oldest brother — ” 

" Horatio ain’t coming home to supper,” interrupted 
Paul. " I met him in the street with Miss Nettie, and 
she said so. I say,” to the doctor, " you don’t know 
what Horatio’s doing now-a-days ? ” 

"No,” returned Thurston, shaking hands with 
Lestie, " I don’t know.” 

" He’s at Miss Nettie’s. He was going to set up ♦ 
doctoring, but we thought you wouldn’t like it.” 

"I am quite willing,” the doctor said laughingly, 
as he left the house. 


CHAPTER XX. 


“ What shall I do for thee, glorious one f 
To soothe thy sorrows my soul asp^s. 

Speak ! and say how the Saxon’s son 
May atone for the wrongs of his ruthless sires I ” 

“ He speaks, he speaks ! — that noble chief ! 

From his marble lips deep accents come ; 

And I catch the sound of his mighty grief,— 

‘ Pie' gi’ me free cent for git some rum.’ ” 


HUESTON stopped at tlie Post-Office on his way 



-L home. There were letters for himself ; and a 
delicate missive heavily edged with black for Mrs. Bar- 
ker, post-marked Philadelphia. 

They were waiting tea for him. He sat down in 
silence, and listened mechanically to the widow’s views 
of Mrs. Pepper’s new bonnet and its origin. He dreaded 
giving her the letter, fearing that it might contain bad 
news of her daughter. But at length he said, Have 
you heard from Mrs. Scott lately ? ” 

The widow, who had paused in her comments for 
refreshments, looked over the saucer from which she was 
drinking her tea. 

No,” she said, setting the saucer down and refill- 
ing it from her cup ; not for two weeks.” 

Then he took the letter from his pocket, and gave it 
to her. 


234 


DAISY BllENTWELL. 


Who’s dead ? ” she took it with trembling fingers. 
^^’Melie, open it quick ! I’m all of a tremble ; I can’t 
do a thing.” 

Miss Amelia tore the envelop off. 

‘‘It’s from Jessie, Mary,” she said, holding it at 
arm’s length. 

“ Jessie ! are ycin sure ?” doubtfully. 

“It begins ‘ Darling Mamma,’ and ends ‘Jessie,’ but 
I can’t see well without my glasses.” 

“Silas will read it,” the widow said anxiously. 

Silas, who usually read Mrs. Scott’s letters to them, 
readily complied with the request. 

“ Darling mamma,” it began, “ don’t, I beg, allow 
yourself to be frightened at the mourning wreath of this 
letter, fearing that your only and beloved daughter has 
fallen a victim to death’s ruthless hand. Nay, dear 
mother, I am yet alive, and ready to pour into your sym- 
pathizing bosom the woefullest of tales. Ah ! that I 
were never born. Mamma, dear mamma, why, why 
came I to this terrestrial sphere ? ” 

“ Law sakes ! ” cried Mrs. Barker, “ what can be the 
matter ? ” 

“Mamma,” Silas read on, “my heart is broken — 
broken. Ah! that I were beside thee to unbosom my whole 
soul — my sad soul ; to pour into thy ear all that I endure ; 
to tell thee of the living death, the dying life that I am 
'living. You wonder, doubtless, why I, your happy, your 
joyous daughter, should have this sorrow ; should be thus 
weighed down with care. Ah, too well you know the 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


235 


pangs. This you felt when you saw my father lowered 
into his narrow tomb — his last resting place. My hus- 
band, my noble hearted knight, the companion of my 
life, he who shared alike my joys and sorrows is dead — 
is dead, dead. He has left me to bear the sorrow alone. 
And now behold me, your little rainbow-clad Jessie, 
sitting draped in deepest mourning. Ah, clouds of 
darkness to my soul ! ah, robes of midnight ! I shall 
ne’er discard them again ; through all my life will I 
be enshrouded in this mantle. No more rainbow gar- 
ments for Jessie — little broken-hearted Jessie ; no, no, 
naught but these yards of blackness. 

“ Mamma, mourning is more becoming to me than I 
had any idea it would be. Byron, my noble lord — ah, 
more noble, more kingly than his namesake — was 
thrown from his horse a week ago last Tuesday, and 
instantly killed. My beloved husband went forth so 
full of warm life, and was brought home to me cold and 
dead. I draw a veil over all that followed. He was 
buried on Saturday, and it was the largest funeral I ever 
attended. All of his friends came to it ; and he has so 
many. There were some whom he had not seen in a 
long time, who came a great distance to attendee last 
sad rites. , I could not help wishing that he was alive 
to see them : it would have given him so much pleasure. 
My mother and sisters-in-law do act so strangely. 
Louie, the youngest, has been in bed ever since, and* 
would not even get up to see the funeral procession — 
and it was such a grand sight. One of the servants 


23G 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


described it to me ; of course, being in it, I could not 
see it. Mrs. Scott has such poor taste ; she was not at 
all interested in her mourning. I had to take charge of 
every thing. Susie hates it so that she will hardly wear 
it. Well, no wonder : it makes her look like a fright. 

I always used to think that Ida loved dear Byron ; 
she was around him so much — her affection was cer- 
tainly annoying to him at times ; but she acts now as if 
she had no heart. She never speaks of him, and 
leaves the room if any one else does. And, darling 
mamma, at the funeral, where my sobs and extreme 
grief attracted so much sympathy, she never shed a 
tear, but sat bolt upright, staring ahead of her. As he 
was their only brother, I should think that they would 
care more than they do. Of course, they cannot be 
expected to grieve as I do : any one can see that I am 
heart-broken. 

‘‘ For the next month, I shall be busy with lawyers, 
having the property settled, then I shall be able to 
make some arrangements for my future home. I feel 
that my first duty is to my widowed mother, and to you 
I shall come in June. Then, in that joyous summer 
montfl^ shall fly into your arms, and weep my grief 
away, pillowed upon that heart whose tenderness I can 
never doubt. 

You have written me that your rooms are now all 
occupied. There will have to be some alterations in 
the house before I come ; and I intend sending new 
furniture, and bringing a servant with me. The wings 


DAISY BKEHTWELL. 


237 


can each be raised a story and also extended the whole 
depth of the house ; and then the kitchen will have 
light enough still, and there will be six new rooms. 
You will be willing, no doubt, darling mamma and dear 
aunt, to make this improvement. Trusting that you 
would I have made arrangements, and the workmen 
will be in Newfield next Monday to go to work on 
Tuesday. If they discommode you at all, I will pay 
your board at the hotel, and the difference also that it 
would make to your two boarders. Dr. St. James, you 
write, is of Philadelphia. 

‘‘Write soon, dear mother. Comfort me in my afflic- 
tion. With love to dear aunt I close, 

“Your loving, sorrowing 

“Jessie.” 

“Well, I do say,” cried the widow, “Byron Scott 
dead ! It beats me out. Jessie must be heart-broken.” 

“Poor, poor girl,” said Miss Amelia, who during 
the reading had alternately wept at the sad news it con- 
tained, and been delighted at the grand bursts of rhet- 
oric. Mrs. Barker had been very much affected by its 
poetical composition too, and had anxiously watched 
the doctor to see the effect of so much fine writing upon 
him. He betrayed no emotions, but went quietly on 
eating his supper. He expressed his sorrow for the 
daughter’s affliction in, a few words, but said nothing of 
the letter. 

“Yes, poor girl,” the widow went on, “no wonder 


238 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


she wants to get home to me ; no wonder ; Byron did 
set the world by her, and now he’s dead and Jessie’s a 
widow, like her mother. What did she say, Silas, about 
the house ? When are the workmen coming ? ” 

On Monday they will be here, and will begin the 
work on Tuesday.” 

I wonder how the old house will look all altered 
up. I suppose it’s likely I’ll like it when it’s done, but 
it don’t seem so now.” 

‘^It ain’t over big now, you know, Mary.” 

What did she say she was going to bring with her, 
Silas ?” 

A servant.” 

A hired girl,” explained Miss Amelia. 

She don’t say whether it is a hired girl or a hired 
man,” returned the widow wisely. I wonder what 
we’ll do with it.” 

Jessie will need her to wait on her,” said Miss 
Amelia. 

What did she say, Silas, about the Scotts ? that 
they didn’t seem to care ? ” 

“ Oh, no, Mrs. Barker, I understood from it that 
they felt very badly indeed,” said Silas, taking up the 
letter again. 

‘‘Just read over that part about Ida and the rest,” 
said Mrs. Barker. “ There,” she said, when he had 
read it. “I told you so ; that girl never shed a 
tear.” 

“Neither did Miss Nettie shed a tear when the 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


239 


Doctor died,” said Silas ; and we all know how she 
grieved for him.” 

I was calling on Miss Nettie yesterday,” said the 
widow, changing the subject. She’s quite lively now 
that Horatio Brentwell is there. I didn’t know, doc- 
tor, that women folks could teach medicine.” 

They cannot.” 

But Miss Nettie does. She teaches Horatio every 
'day. He says lessons to her out of the medicine 
books.” 

Was Horatio studying with Dr. Doreann ? ” 
Thurston asked. 

^^Law, yes, studying very hard,” said Mrs. Barker ; 
and some says that he was most up to the old doctor 
when he died. Horatio’s heart was set on being a 
physician, and he was afraid he would have to give it 
up, but now he’s going right on.” 

Did you know of this, Silas ? ” Thurston asked. 

I knew that he had been studying with Dr. Do- 
reann, but I didn’t know that he studied with Miss 
Nettie now.” 

Which is impossible,” Thurston said, as he arose 
from the table. He is, without doubt, trying to do so 
alone.” 

He went back into his office and sat down by the 
window in the gathering twilight. He thought of the 
struggling boy, and admired his determination. Yes,” 
he said, at length, will do it. I’ll call there next 
week and ask to see him, and talk it over with him. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


2-^0 


It is strange that I have not seen him there in any or my 
calls. But I remember now Miss Nettie always shuts 
the office door very carefully. They have tried to keep 
it from me, thinking I would be displeased, I suppose. 
That little rogue of a Paul almost let it out to-day. 
Yes, I’ll do it.” 

And he did. He made a call upon Horatio the next 
week, and there was a long private conversation. When 
that was ended, and the doctor had gone, Horatio 
hastened home with a light, happy heart to find a cosy 
supper awaiting him, and the whole family sitting by, 
anxious to hear the reason of his delay. 

Lestie, as usual, began the examination. Daisy 
poured his tea, Mrs. Brentwell brouglit warm biscuits 
from the oven, and Christie gave him the choice bit of 
cake which she had saved for him. 

What made you so late ? ” Lestie asked. 

‘‘ I was so hungry,” returned Horatio, with his 
mouth full, “that I hadn’t strength to walk scarcely. 
So I just crept along. If Paul had been there to help 
me I would have been here in season.” 

Paul, who was in his accustomed place oh the floor, 
remodelling an old bag, cutting slashes, and taking 
enormous stitches, looked up greatly interested. 

“ Something has pleased Horatio,” Mr. Brentwell 
said. The son nodded his head briskly. 

“At the rate I am going now,” he said, “I shall 
be through my supper in no time, then I’ll relate my 
afternoon’s experience. Meanwhile, Lestie, there is a 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


241 


collar Miss Nettie sent to you. She said it was the real 
thing. I suppose you’ll know : I don’t.” 

Lestie did not know, but she remembered having 
seen Laura Van Pike wear a collar of the same pattern, 
and she thought from that fact that it must be of 
great value. 

Very old and very rare,” Horatio said, with a wise 
look. Lestie tried it on before the- mirror, and then 
tried it on Christie, while her tongue ran glibly. Her 
love of fine dress was even greater than her curiosity, 
and she quite forgot that Horatio had anything to 
communicate until he said, I want to know who told 
Hr. St. James that I am studying at Miss Nettie’s.” 

The idea of wondering that,” said Daisy. Every 
one in Newfield who knows it has told him.” 

I suppose that’s about true. Still I was surprised 
when he called there to-day to see me — ” 

Well,” cried Lestie, with breathless attention, as 
he paused a moment. 

He wanted to see me,” Horatio went on. He 
hadn’t looked in my face for so long, little sister, that 
he wanted to have one good look, and he was so well 
pleased with my face, when he had studied it, that he 
said he would like very much to have me in his office to 
look at, but I didn’t think I could leave Miss Nettie, so 
I said no. It was a sad disappointment to him, but 
Miss Nettie was so well pleased that she gave me that 
collar for you.” 

I don’t believe one word you say,” she cried. 

11 


242 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


‘‘As long as you have the collar why need you 
care But Mr. Brentwell demanded a truthful ac- 
count, and Horatio laid aside liis jesting until a more 
convenient season. “Dr. St. James has heard some- 
where,” he said, “that I am studying alone, and he 
came to offer his tuition and his office to study in.” 

“ And you refused ? ” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

“Ho, mother, not exactly; but I told him I could 
not leave Miss Nettie on any account, that I must stay 
tliere while she lives ; and lie saw himself how ungrate- 
ful it Avould be in me to leave her alone again.” 

“ And now your only opportunity is gone,” said Mrs. 
Brentwell regretfully, remembering only her son and his 
ambition. Mr. Brentwell knit his. brow, and wondered 
if he would have the strength to refuse such an offer. 

“It did seem to me that I was throwing away my 
only chance to study as I should ; but it was only for 
a moment. The doctor proposed that I should spend 
two afternoons and one evening of every week with him, 
and made the arrangement with Miss Nettie. That dear 
old lady would unselfishly have sent me off altogether, but 
I would not listen to a word of it. Oh, we had a grand 
time,” resuming his jesting tone. “It was as good as a 
theatre. You ought to have been there, Lestie.”- 

“ What about the collar ? ” she demanded. 

“ I haven’t told you all yet. I arranged with Miss 
Nettie that one of my sisters should spend with her the 
afternoon that I am away.” 

“ Certainly,” said Mrs. Brentwell smiling. 


DAISY BREJ^-TWELL. 


243 


The doctor said that Silas and he would be around 
this evening to talk over everything, and I am to be 
arranged and attended to generally. Now, Lestie, about 
that collar. Miss Nettie gave it to me just as I was 
coming away — as a reward for my choosing to remain 
with her ; for she knew well the pleasure it would afford 
me to give it to you. There, I’ve told all I know. If you 
want any more you must make it yourself. Heigho ! 
make it yourself ! ” 

He turned his face to the wall, and listened silently 
to the lively coRversation that followed. All his bur- 
dens had been graciously lifted from his shoulders, and 
he felt that his life would be a happy one. Oh, thou 
of little faith ! ” he murmured to himself, of little 
faith, of little faith. He has brought me safely through, 
yet I refused to cast my care upon Him. Of little faith.” 
He breathed a heartfelt prayer of thankfulness, and 
being wearied from the day’s hard study, he sank to 
sleep, and did not wake until Thurston and Silas came. 

The doctor had brought some cough medicine for 
Daisy, and immediately entered into a discussion with 
Mr. Brentwell on the subject of her going south, and 
had the pleasure again of hearing that it was an im- 
possibility. Silas, meanwhile sitting afar, had the 
happiness of seeing Christie knit, of knowing that she 
did knit, of seeing that she held her needles just as his 
mother did ; and what bliss it was ! And she joined so 
sweetly in the conversation he was carrying on with 
Horatio, and was interested — he never could forget 


244 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


that, no never — when he said that he, too, was intending 
to study medicine, and that he should begin as soon as 
the school year was closed. Neither would he ever 
forget the pleasure she expressed when he spoke of all 
the plans for their week on the Island being fairly 
arranged. There came an end to all this bliss ; for 
there came such a knocking at the outer dopj* that every 
one stopped talking, and every one fell to thinking only 
of Mother Wade as she sailed in, when that door was 
opened. She bowed profoundly to the company 
assembled, and shook hands with every one from Mr. 
Brentwell down to Paul. 


CHAPTEE XXL 


** Away, away from men and towns. 

To the Wildwood and the downs.” 

““femiiiiiEY* 

A PEIL had brushed the farewell tears from her 
eyes. Her last coquettish smile had flown, and 
she was unceremoniously sent into the past to give 
place to her sweet sister May. And now May in her old 
age was making the best of her few last days : June was 
approaching. 

Besides a long discussion between Mr. Brent well and 
the doctor, whereby the three orders were proved by St. 
Timothy’s consecration to the Bishopric of Ephesus — 
which if related would not be read — but one noteworthy 
event had occurred. That event was the marriage of 
Maria Morris, for whom the quilts were quilted long 
ago. She had been united in the holy bonds to a tall, 
awkward young man from the very depths of the 
country, bearing the name of John West. There had 
been quite a wedding party, and the ceremony of course 
had been performed by Mr. Brentwell. 

The groom during the greater part of it seemed more 
impressed with the fact that ^^the parson had to be 
paid for the job,” than anything else. He felt that the 
money must be given in a delicate way, so that Mr. 


246 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


BrentwelFs pride would not be wounded. He bad 
thought once of settling the hill when he asked the 
clergyman to officiate, but his father, whom he wisely 
consulted, reckoned that that was not exactly manners, 
'^leastwise, he hadn’t paid the parson that way when he 
was married, and he’d got through all straight. He 
didn’t believe in giving the cash until it was earned.” 
John was a dutiful son, and having found from his 
youth up that his sire’s advice concerning crops and cat- 
tle was well worth following, he followed the advice in 
this case, and waited until Maria and he were one before 
he paid the clergyman. Yet the delicate manner in 
which it was to be done had not been decided upon. 
There was a great deal of planning and talking, and at 
length a happy thought struck John’s highly respected 
maiden aunt. She suggested that the money should be 
placed under Mr. Brentwell’s plate at the wedding sup- 
per. Here the advantage would be double : Mr. Brent- 
well would be saved the embarrassment of receiving the 
money publicly from J ohn, and the company assembled 
would see and know the groom’s liberality. It was 
done, but unfortunately West had decided to pay him 
in change. So when Mr. Brentwell lifted up his plate, 
observed of all observers — being the first one who, in 
'^"irtue of his office, was waited upon — a shower of copper 
and silver was thrown on his lap and on the floor, i^or 
the moment there was a great excitement. Every one 
helped to pick it up, and at last, when it was all found 
and the confusion subsided, Mr. West made the speech 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


247 


he had long been desiring to make, but had not known 
exactly where to bring it in. You earned that, parson, 
every cent of it. Anybody who would marry Maria 
and me would earn it, and I don’t begrudge it — no I 
wouldn’t begrudge it if it was five dollars — almost.” 

When they reached home that evening, Mr. Brent- 
well, with Lestie’s assistance, patiently counted the 
money and found it to be two dollars and eighty -three 
cents. Horatio proposed sending the three cents back, 
as it must have been an oversight, but Paul urged the 
great cost of balls and tops so strongly that it was 
bestowed upon him. 

The rectory gardens had been planted, and the young 
gardeners were already rejoicing in the signs of rapid 
growth. Horatio was making great progress in his 
studies under the doctor’s tuition, and Daisy was slowly 
regaining health and strength. Following Thurston’s 
advice, she spent a portion of her time in the open air, 
and the color was coming back into her cheeks, apd 
new life blood seemed to be fiowing through her veins. 
Yes, she was improving as she never had under Dr. 
Doreann’s treatment. Her parents said that Dr. St. 
James was a wonderful physician to work this change, 
and Daisy — well she had an opinion, but no one knew 
what it was. 

*About a half a mile above the rectory, on the river, 
was a small wood. The pleasure-seekers of Hewfield 
called it a grove, and held their picnics there. The 
clergyman’s daughters spent many,^ bright afternoon 


248 


DAISY BBENTWELL. 


here with their books and sewing, and on Saturdays 
Herbert would accompany them. Paul considered it a 
yery poor plan j for it was necessary to pass through this 
wood on his way to Sam Lukens’ hut, consequently he 
had not been able of late to visit that worthy as often 
as he desired. 

It was on one of those warm afternoons in the latter 
part of May that we find them here. Daisy was seated 
on a high rock, weaving a wreath of early flowers. 
Lestie and Christie, with their sewing, were seated on a 
fallen tree, and Herbert, who had accompanied them, 
lay upon the grass reading aloud a novel. It was an 
intensely interesting book. The plot was intricate, and 
the characters were possessed of superhuman powers of 
action and discernment,and were constantly doing su- 
perhuman things. Wonderful secrets were discovered 
with the greatest ease : every one had the power of 
reading another’s face as we simple people read books, 
so not a thought or an emotion could be kept a secret 
from the world. The wicked ones had everything their, 
own way, and the good — that is the moral, for religion 
was entirely overlooked — had only a series of misfor- 
tunes and calamities. The most striking event was a 
wonderful Fortune which a terribly crooked, withered 
old gypsy in red had told the heroine in the first chap- 
ter, and the fulfillment of which was slowly but surely 
being brought out in each succeeding chapter ; and as 
each separate prophecy was fulfilled the heroine Avould 
tragically clasp he^liands and moan or cry out or mur- 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


249 


mur or shriek or scream or weep, or whatever best 
suited the occasion, ‘‘Alas ! alas ! the gypsy’s prophecy. 
Evil was the day I listened to her dark prognostications. 
Fate, fate, how hast thou enveloped me in thine iron 
clasp ! Is there no eluding thee ? ” 

“There !” exclaimed Lestie, when, according to the 
prophecy, the heroine had rescued a surpassingly hand- 
some youth from drowning in the river that ran by her 
father’s abode, and fallen in love with him at first sight 
as he had with her; “There!” looking anxiously up 
the river for a drowning youth, “ I’m going to have my 
fortune told the first opportunity.” 

“ There ain’t any gypsies in ISTewfield,” said Herbert, 
looking on the last page to ^ee if she married the 
rescued youth. 

“ Oh, other people besides gypsies can tell them. 
Martha Morris’ great aunt knows how, and I mean to 
have her tell mine. Martha says that she has told quanti- 
ties of people’s, and the predictions always come true.” 

“ Mother won’t let you,” said Herbert. 

“I’ll coax her till she does.” 

“What did she ever tell that has come true ? ” asked 
Christie. 

“ Why, she told one girl that she was going to have a 
letter and two presents and an invitation to a sleigh- 
ride, and that she is to marry a very rich, handsome 
young man, who will just adore her, and give her every- 
thing she wants.” 

“Well,” said Daisy, “ has it all happened ? ” 

11 * 


250 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


Yes, sir,” emphatically, she got a letter that yery 
evening, and a few days afterwards her aunt gave her a 
handkerchief, and her mother bought her a new dress — ” 
^^And her father gave her her dinner,” added 
Herbert. 

You be still ; you don’t know anything about it. 
She got the invitation to the sleigh-ride too. ” 

^^Is she married to that man yet ? ” asked Daisy. 

No — 0 ; not yet.” 

Is she engaged to him yet ?” asked Herbert. 

No — 0,” doubtfully. 

Has she made his acquaintance yet?” asked 
Christie. 

I don’t know,” very sharply. 

^^Just let her know that I’ll be at the wedding,” 
said Herbert; ^ 4 t may encourage her.” He resumed 
his reading. More wonderful events were related. Among 
other things the rescued youth confessed himself to be 
the heir to a princely fortune, and cqnfided to the fair 
maid that the drowning scene had been planned by his 
affectionate relatives, and they, fearing that the respon- 
sibility accompanying such wealth would be too great f o& 
him, had kindly hired certain men to lay him gently 
down in the bosom of the calm river ; and they, the 
affectionate relatives, had decided to take the burden of 
the wealth on their own shoulders. The heroine cried 
out again at this recital against the fate that enveloped 
her in its cruel arms ; for this, too, the gypsy had 
foretold. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


251 


Lestie, very much impressed, reiterated her deter- 
mination to have her fortune revealed to her. 

You had better lay the book aside, Herbert,’’ said 
Daisy. I didn’t think Lestie would place so much 
faith in it.” 

^^Gro on, Herbert,” Lestie said, want to hear 
the end.” 

You don’t realize,” continued Daisy, that there 
is not one word of truth in it, and that such a fulfill- 
ment of a prophecy would be impossible.” 

The prophecies in the Bible were fulfilled.” 

Oh, Lestie, they were inspired.” 

^^I'm sorry we began it,” said Christie, such a 
book always has a bad influence over the reader.” 

^^Well, as we’ve begun it,” said Lestie, ^^we might 
as well finish it. Co on, Herbert.” 

Helloa, there ! ” cried a voice from afar. Where 
are you ? ” 

There’s Paul,” said Lestie crossly. ^^What on 
earth can the little torment want now ? Don’t answer 
, him.” 

Helloa, I say. Herb, helloa.” 

Helloa!” cried Herbert. We’re down by the 
rock.” 

AH right ! I’m coming.” Voices were heard, and 
Christie leaning forward saw through the undergrowth 
that four feet Avere walking toward them. Horatio is 
with him,” she announced. 

Horatio ! are you sure ? ” said Daisy. Help me 


252 


DAISY BKEIITWELL. 


on with my wreath, girls, before he gets here. There ! 
that is it. Thank you.” 

Oh, I knew I’d find ’em,” Paul was heard to say 
pompously. I know these woods like a book. They 
couldn’t get where I couldn’t find ’em.” 

‘^Your wreath is very becoming,” Christie said, as 
she arranged the gay flowers among the dark curls. 
Voices and steps were coming nearer, and Paul appeared 
accompanied by Thurston St. James. Daisy forgot the 
wreath and Horatio, and remembered only that Thurs- 
ton had come. 

“ Is this our queen to day ? ” the doctor said, bow- 
ing before her, after the usual greetings were over. 
Then Daisy remembering the flowers, wondered, as any 
woman would, if Christie had told the truth, or that it 
was only sisterly affection that made her say they were 
becoming. 

Yes^ I am the queen,” she laughed,blushingly. I 
thought that Horatio was with Paul,” she added, fear- 
ing he might think her vain. 

^^Then this was all for him ? Allow me to enjoy it 
in his stead.” 

‘‘Will you sit down ? ” she said. 

He seated himself near on the rock. “ I was very 
fortunate in meeting Master Paul in the road, and he 
told me that you were here, and conducted me to you.” 

“ It is strange we did not see you, if you came up the 
road. We can see the road all the way toHewfield from 
here,” said Daisy. 


DAISY BREJITWELL. 


253 


“ Yes, a fine view. I came from the village north ; 
Paul, I believe, came from Newfield.” Paul, who was 
intent upon throwing stones into the river, and watching 
to see if Sam’s boating expedition had set out yet, did 
not feel called upon to explain that instead of walking 
boldly along the road he had crept along the fences so 
that the brother and sisters would not see him. Neither 
did he mention that his destination had been Sam’s hut. 

I wish you had come sooner,” said Lestie to the 
doctor ; Herbert’s been reading aloud such an interest- 
ing book. It is about a young lady who had her fortune 
told in the first chapter by an old gypsy woman, and 
every word of it comes true. I’m going to have mine 
told.” 

Are there any gypsies in this wood ? If any will 
make their appearance, we all might have our future 
read.” 

Oh, but I’m in earnest. Martha Morris’ aunt tells 
them, and they always come true.” 

Why, Lestie,” said Daisy, we shall begin to think 
that you believe in it.” 

‘‘ I do, almost.” 

It reminds me of an aunt of mine who once had her 
fortune told,” said Thurston. ‘‘The g3rpsy said that 
she was to be married three times. The first husband 
would be tallest, the second shorter, and the third quite 
short. She is sixty now, and her first husband is still 
alive, and he measures five feet four in his boots. If the 
second is to be shorter, what will the third be ? ” 


254 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


That gypsy didn’t know,” explained Lestie. 

How dark it’s gi’owing ! ” cried Herbert. 

There’s awful black clouds,” said Paul. It’s going 
to rain, sure-pop.” 

And very soon,” added Thurston. 

^‘It is strange that we haven’t noticed that a storm 
was coming up,” said Christie. 

We were so interested in the book,” said Lestie. 

^‘We must get under shelter as soon as possible,” 
said the doctor. “ Is there any short cut to Hew- 
field ? ” 

The road is the shortest way,” said Herbert, and 
it won’t take us two minutes to run home.” 

Then go immediately. You will hardly have time 
to reach the house before the rain begins. My carriage 
is at the fence, and I will take Miss Brentwell home 
in that. I am sorry that I cannot offer you all 
seats. ” 

The run will not hurt us,” said Christie, gathering 
up their work. Cood-bye,” and they were gone. 
Thurston turned to Daisy. 

Where is your bonnet ? ” he said, as he helped her 
from the rock. 

^‘It was hung on that tree with the others. Oh ! it 
is not there. Where can it be ? ” 

^^They piust have taken it. Let my handkerchief 
supply its place.” He drew it from his pocket as he 
spoke. A small book came with it, and fell to the 
ground. He picked it up quickly, thankful that Daisy 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


255 


was busy taking the wreath from her head, and did not 
notice it. 

They hastened to the road. 

have a little book of yours in my possession,” 
he said, when they were seated in the carriage. I 
have had it a long time, and it was my duty long ago 
to restore it to you.” He laid it in her lap. 

My Prayer Book ! I have searched the house over 
for it. Why, where did you get it ? ” 

Your father left it in my office the first time he 
called upon me. That was before I made your 
acquaintance. I have kept it by me ever since, and 
during the long rides I must take I study it most 
faithfully.” 

“ Pather will be glad to hear that ; it will give him 
such hopes of your conversion.” 

^ Your father ! It is beginning to rain,” he added. 
I hope the children are home,” said she. 

‘‘They are not in sight,” he said. He was driving 
very slowly. “ I don’t think,” he went on, “ that I have 
studied it much for the sake of the church.” 

“Were you interested in it ? Then you are a better 
churchman than I am. I must tell father that, too.” 

“Hot at present : I have not finished studying it 
yet.” 

“Have you one of your own ?” 

“Ho,” decidedly. A moment’s pause, then Daisy 
summoned courage to say, 

“ Do you want mine again ? ” 


256 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


do,” very decidedly. So it went back into 
Thurston’s pocket just as he intended from the first 
that it should. 

The rain was pouring in torrents when they reached 
the rectory gate. Horatio stood waiting with an um- 
brella in one hand, and the missing bonnet in the other. 
Mrs. Barker under another umbrella was also in waiting. 

It’s so fortunate,” she said, as the doctor lifted 
Daisy out, ‘Hhat you come along just now. I’ve been 
wanting to go to Mis’ Pepper’s, and if it won’t be any 
trouble, I can go right along with you.” 

The doctor said something about its being a pleas- 
ure,” with his tongue, while his heart said '^with re- 
gret.” He did not care to have any one take the seat 
that Daisy had left vacant by his side, but there was no 
alternative, and he assisted the widow in as politely as 
he had lifted Daisy out. 

Mrs. Pepper’s yellow house was soon reached. Mrs. 
Barker alighted> and the doctor’s gig was again whirl- 
ing down the street. Of course Mrs. Pepper was de- 
lighted to see Mrs. Barker. It had been two days since 
the friends had met, and all Newfield affairs sadly needed 
rearranging. Spring suits had appeared, removals had 
occurred, and various other things had taken place, 
and they had not commented upon them. They had 
entertained a few ideas alone, but thoughts, even on a 
neighbor’s bonnet, are stale when there is no sister ear 
aito which these thoughts can be poured ; no sympa- 
thizing heart to listen to the most secret feelings con- 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


257 


cerning new shawls and made-over dresses. As sister 
spirits did Mrs. Barker and Mrs. Pepper meet. 

Mrs. Pepper brought out the big rocking-chair from 
the gloomy parlor, and placed it by the window for 
the widow. 

% 

The weather was commented upon, and the rain 
spoken ill of. 

Have you called on Mrs. Platt yet ? ” Mrs. Pepper 
asked, at length.. Mrs. Platt was the wife of the min- 
ister who had succeeded Mr. Borne. 

No, and I am ashamed to own it, too. ^Melie’s 
been over though. She went the day they came, and 
carried them some hot biscuits and cold boiled meat. 
She said she knew that they couldn’t have anything to 
eat in the house when they’d just moved. She don’t 
take to ’em like she did to the Bornes. She had a 
letter from Mr. Borne the other day.” 

Do tell ! What did he have to say ? ” 

He hasn’t any place yet, and Mrs. Borne and the 
children are at her uncle’s while he hunts one.” 

I do believe that if I heard they were going to call 
him any place that I would put a flea in their ear.” 

‘‘I wouldn’t do that,” said the widow, ‘‘but I 
wouldn’t want him back here. Mrs. Borne is quite mis- 
erable yet, he says. I reckon she ain’t long for this 
world.” 

“I wonder if she is prepared to die. I never saw 
any religion in her.” ^ 

“ Nor I.” 


258 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


^'The fact is, Mis’ Barker,” continued Mrs. Pepper, 
Mis’ Borne never had a change of heart : she never 
was a Christian. Now there’s Mis’ Platt she is a Chris- 
tian. I saw that the minute I set my foot inside of her 
door. There was the three oldest children sitting on 
the settee together, reading their Bibles, and the two 
little ones were looking out of the window as quiet as 
two mice. There wasn’t so much as a crumb on the 
floor, and all the children had clean faces and smooth 
hair — which no one could ever say of Mis’ Borne’s chil- 
dren. ^ Wal, Mis’ Platt,’ says I, 'It’s certain that you 
know how to bring up your children in the way they 
should go.’ ' Wal,’ says she, 'I try my best. I don’t 
look very neat myself. I hope you’ll excuse it.’ There 
she was just as neat as a pin, and I told her so. ' And 
the room,’ says she, ' is a good deal upside down.’ There 
wasn’t a chair out of place or a thread on the floor ; and 
once when her back was turned, I lifted up the corner 
of the stove oil-cloth with my foot and looked under. 
There wasn’t a grain o’ dust there — not a grain” 

" And to think hov^ Mis’ Borne’s house and children 
used to look,” exclaimed the widow. * 

" The worst of that was that she never made any 
apology for it, hut just sat down and talked as cool as 
if she was a queen sitting in her palace. She didn’t 
know much ahou^ manners, and I thought I’d give her 
a lesson in ’em one day when she called. I wasn’t fixed 
up much, but laws ! I didn’t begin to look like she does 
half the time. ' Mis’ Borne,’ I says, ' I am ashamed to 


DAISY BEEIfTWELL. 


259 


be seen sitting down in this dress. It ain’t often I’m 
caught looking like this. And so I kept on making ex- 
cuses to let her know that I knew what is good manners. 
And what do you think she said ? Now, ’most anybody 
that knew any thing would have said that my dress 
didn’t look bad — and all that, but she says, ‘ Don’t men- 
tion it. Mis’ Pepper. I came . to see you and not your 
dress.’ I was taken down, you may know.” 

If there’s a person on earth,” said the widow, who 
ought to know manners, it’s the minister’s wife.” 

That’s so,” cried Mrs. Pepper, and she ought to 
know how to bring up her children. Did you ever see 
one of them Bornes’ children when they hadn’t their 
hands full of bread and butter, sprinkling crumbs all 
over ? Well, I never did, and I was thinking about that 
when I was at Mis’ Platt’s. Little Maria says, ^ ’ Ma, 
can I have a piece of bread?’. ‘ No,’ says Mis’ Platt ; 
^ you kno vv I don’t let you eat between meals ! ’ ^ Please, 

-Ma, do let me : I’m so hungry,’ says Maria. ^ Maria,’ 
says Mis’ Platt, ^ if you ask me again. I’ll put you to bed 
without your supper.’ There wasn’t another word out 
of that child’s mouth. Now, that’s what I call the right 
kind of government.” 

Mrs. Barker did not agree with her, but she made no 
comment : Mrs. Pepper did not make statements to have 
them contradicted. Mis’ Platt’s a Christian if ever 
there was one,” Mrs. Pepper went on. ^^She gave me 
an account of her experience. It was very interesting. 
There ain’t many of us who have such experiences to 


2G0 


DAISY BEEIsTWELL. 


relate, I can tell you. She talks about religion the 
whole time. I really felt refreshed when I came away, 
and Mr. Platt he’s just the sweetest man. Did you ever 
hear such elegant prayers ! They take me right otf of 
my feet. I hear your house is very fine,” she added. 
^^Is it finished ? ” 

Yes, it is 'finished, and ’Melie and I think it’s fine, 
but I don’t suppose Mis’ Scott will : she’s been used to 
such grand things.” 

When is she coming ? ” 

‘^Not for three weeks yet.” 

The doctor’ll be good company for her.” 

’Melie was saying that, too.” 

‘‘You must be careful they don’t fall in love.” 

“Oh, poor Jessie won’t ever get in love again. I 
suppose you’ve heard that she’s turned ’Piscopal ? ” 

“ Sakes, no ! How did that happen ? Mercy on us. 
Aint you terribly, afflicted ! ” 

“ I did take it to heart a good deal, and wrote her a 
long letter. She wrote back that it was more stylish to 
be ’Piscopal, and that she had to.” 

By the time the rain ceased Hewfield and inhabitants 
had been reviewed, and Mrs. Barker rose to go. She 
stopped a moment by the door to say that Daisy had 
ridden from the grove with the doctor and that they 
drove very slowly. Mrs. Pepper was duly shocked, and 
that evening it was reported at Mr. Green’s store that 
Daisy and the doctor had been to Fairhope and back in 
the rain, and the horse had walked every step of the way. 


CHAPTER XXII 


“ O dear I O dear, my heart will break, I shall go stick stark staring wild ! 
Has ever a one seen any thing about the streets like a crying lost-looking 


child ? ” 


—Thomas Hood. 



AXIL daily, almost hourly grew to be a worse 


child. We might say momentarily ; for who can 
stand still an inftant ? Every moment in our lives 
marks a step onward in grace or backward in guilt. It 
is an awful knowledge ! How we wish sometimes that 
we could stand still Just for a moment, as if to recover 
ourselves, and even while we indulge these vain wishes 
we are retrograding ! We give one hasty glance over the 
multitudes that inhabit this earth, and the thought 
comes to us that of the millions every one has his own 
separate account to render, and each at this moment is 
either growing in grace or falling yet farther away : they 
are divided ; not one stands still. And we ask our- 
selves involuntarily, On which side do I stand ? do 
I gi’ow in grace or do I grow in sin ? ” Deep, deep into 
our hearts should that question sink, and there live, 
reminding us every moment of our duty. In each 
single act of life, every thought and word, we 
should ask ourselves, does this retard my growth, or 
does it quicken it ? ” Whether we eat or whether we 


DAISY BEEHTWELL. 


2CyZ 

drink it should be all for the glory of God and for our 
growth in grace. 

Paul certainly did not grow in grace : he certainly 
did retard. Sam was visited almost daily, not only 
after school hours, but he frequently ran away to go 
there. The old man had set him lessons of vice, and he 
had learned them eagerly — so rapidly did he grow in 
wickedness. Paul was often absent from supper, coming 
home in time for the few remains of the meal with some 
threadbare excuse for his delay. This had gone on for • 
some time when one evening he had not made his 
appearance by seven o’clock. Mr. A’entwell had gone 
to Pairhope on business, and Horatio remained to tea 
with Miss Nettie. ^ 

Herbert searched the village through for the truant, 
and returned home unsuccessful. Paul was not to be 
found ; no one had seen him, or had forgotten the very 
common sight if they had. Half past seven ! and still 
Paul did not return to the bosom of his family. If 
Horatio were there, they said, he might have found him. 

“Well, perhaps he might,” said Herbert. “Pdgive 
him leave to try. I’ve done my best, I’m sure. I’ve 
been in every street and alley in Newfield, and I’ve asked 
people until I’m ashamed.” 

“ Hid you go to Sam’s hut ?” asked Lestie. 

“Yes, I even went there ; but it was empty,” 

“Then,” said Christie, “he’s off boating with Sam.” 

“ The poor boy will be drowned,” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

“ The old villain,” cried Lestie. 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


263 


Herbert,” said Daisy, can’t you go and bring him 
back when they land ? ” 

I tried that once, and you remember the result. 
Paul wouldn’t come because the boys laughed at him, 
and Sam sent me off flying. If father or Horatio were 
here they could get him ; he minds them a little.” 

‘^He minds me sometimes,” said Daisy, '^Sam 
wouldn’t send me off, would he ? ” 

You ! he wouldn’t get a chance.” 

Yes he would ; I think I’ll go.” 

Go where ? ” said Christie. 

After Paul.”' 

What a crazy idea,” said Lestie, who had just de- 
cided to go herself ; ^^you couldn’t do anything with 
him.” 

I think I could. What do you think, mother ? 
The days are so long that I will be home before dark.” 

^^If there is no danger you had better go.” 

There is none,” said Herbert. Sam wouldn’t say 
anything to a h dy ; and if you kind o’ happen along I 
shouldn’t be surprised if Paul would come with you, 
especially if you tell him you are afraid to come home 
alone.” 

And I’ll go with you,” said Lestie, and give that 
old man a piece of my mind.” 

No, Lestie ; stay where you are,” said Daisy, if 
too many go he’ll know it’s done on purpose.” 

Then you stay home, and let me go.” 

‘^Paul wouldn’t come with you,” said Herbert. 


264 


DAISY ERENTWELL. 


^^You must stay at home,” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

You could do no good because you have lost all 
your influence over him by your constant quarrelling. 
Don’t go up stairs for your bonnet, Daisy ; take that 
red scarf of mine and throw it over your head. There ! 
it is a great deal more suitable for the night air. Don’t 
be gone any longer than you can help ; for I shall be 
worried until you get back.” 

There is no danger, mother,” Daisy said, as she 
ran out of the door, ^^and if Horatio cornes you can 
send him after me.” 

She walked quickly up the street. She was afraid 
that they might have landed already, and if they had, 
she would never dare to enter the hut. It required a 
great deal of courage to walk through the little wood, ^ 
but Daisy was equal to it just then, and scarcely thought 
of its shadows. 

The hut stood out in bold relief by the water-side. 
There were no signs of life near. She went up to it and 
listened ; no sound came from it. She walked slowly 
by. It was empty. They had not returned and how 
thankful she was ! She turned and looked up the river, 
hoping to see the boat approaching, and Paul ready to 
forsake his sinful companions and fly into her arms. 
But no such sight greeted her vision ; there was no 
Paul, or no boat ; there was nothing, in fact, to be seen. 
She had not anticipated waiting here any length of time 
alone, and then returning when it was dark. She had 
imagined that Paul would just be nearing the shore, and 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


265 


that they would go away quietly together, Sam bowing 
them off. She sat down on a rude bench by the river, 
with her heart aching for that little brother’s sins. Her 
thoughts were so wrapt in Paul and his coming that she 
did not hear footsteps in the road, or know that another 
person was near until a voice said. 

Miss Brentwell, is it possible that you are here 
alone, and at this hour ? ” 

She turned quickly. Thurston St. James stood 
beside her*. Every burden dropped. Ho longer need 
she feel the. gathering darkness ; here was protection. 
She need not dread the encounter with Sam — as with 
second thought she did ; here was some one to rescue 
Paul : and surely when Paul saw what a good and noble 
man the doctor was, he would forsake the paths of wick- 
edness, and try to grow like him. 

Her face showed her joy at the meeting. She held 
out her hand to greet him. Dr. St. James,” she cried, 
‘^‘is it really you ? I am so glad.” 

^Ht is really I,” he said, sitting down beside her, - 
keeping her hand in his own, and she, poor girl 
could only let it lie there, and I am glad that it is.” 
did not hear you coming.” 

You were so intent upon the river.” 

Oh, yes ! I am looking for Paul. He is on it some- 
where — and in such company.” 

Thurston glanced toward the empty hut, and knew 
what company. And you are waiting for him ? ” 

Yes,” she said, trying after all this time to with- 
12 


266 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


draw her hand. But he held it. ^^Daisy/^ he said j 
tenderly, I haye taken this hand to keep. May I have 
it, darling ? ” 

She must have said ^^yes” after awhile; but the 
evening drew its dark curtains around them, so that we 
could see no more ; and they spoke low, so low that no 
ear could hear their whispered vows. 

Perhaps it was a long time afterwards, perhaps it 
was a short time — they certainly did not know, when 
they were reminded of the world and worldly beings by 
the sound of voices on the river. There, just discerni- 
ble in the gathering night, was Sam’s boat crowded with 
boys. They were shouting and laughing and talking, 
and some were swei^ring great oaths. Paul’s voice 
sounded out among the rest. 

Tears were in Daisy’s eyes. '^My. poor little 
brother,” she said. This will break my father’s heart.” 

^^Sit here,” said Thurston, and I will go down to 
the boat as they land, and get him.” 

He met the boat at the landing. 

‘^Well,” said Sam, springing out, ''what do you 
want ? ” 

" I want Paul Brentwell,” answered the doctor, 
sternly. " Paul,” he called. 

The child stood silent and und^ermined. Should 
he submit to this new government and be laughed at 
by his companions, or should he take his stand by Sam 
and manfully maintain it. 


DAISY BEEliTWELL. 


267 


GoiDg, Paul ? ” whispered a boy, sneeringly. That 
decided liim : he would stay. 

I ain’t going home now,” he muttered. 

Yes, you are. Come right away.” 

None of this interference,” cried Sam, busy with 
the fastenings of the boat. ‘‘ Leave the boy alone : he’s 
nothing to you.” 

Thurston made no reply, hut, taking Paul by the 
arm, dragged him away. 

Good night, dearie,” cried one boy. 

That’s a good boy,” cried another. ^^Go right 
along : I would.” 

I aint going home,” cried Paul, struggling to free 
himself. 

‘"Swear at him,” urged a tall, red-haired, ragged, 
freckled, long-nosed young gentleman. “ He’s none o’ 
your’n.” 

“ Let go,” cried Paul, not daring to follow this piece 
of wholesome advice. Sam, having secured the boat, 
interfered again, almost tearing Paul from Thurston’s 
grasp. The boys shouted, and Paul raised a feeble 
“ hello ” of triumph, which brought Daisy to the spot. 

Where man’s strength fails, woman’s weakness wins. 
She caught her brother away from Sam, who turned 
away unresisting. “ Take him,” she cried to the doctor, 
who, obeying her literally, took the rebellious child in 
his strong arms, and walked swiftly away with him. 
Daisy did not follow directly ; she stood for one moment 
looking at Sam. Face to face were the old fisherman 


268 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


and the fair young girl. She was very angry, and her 
temper blazed out of her eyes upon him. For a moment, 
only for a moment ; then she turned and ran to Thurs- 
ton, who stood waiting in the road. 

'^You can set Paul on the ground, I think,” she 
said, Yainly trying to conceal her anger. 

Thurston saw that she was excited, and Paul cried. 
Going off into one of your tantrums ; I would. You 
haven’t been mad this week. Let go,” he cried to the 
doctor, who having set him on the ground, still held him. 

Thurston drew Daisy’s hand into his arm, and walked 
on, paying no heed to Paul. 

Are you going to let go ? I’ll bite,” suiting the 
action to the word. 

Paul,” he said, sternly. What teeth you have,” 
he added, suddenly. One moment,” he whispered to 
Daisy, as he disengaged his arm and holding Paul with 
that hand, grasped the boy’s collar with the other. 

Now, we will go on,” he said, drawing Daisy’s hand in 
his arm again. 

Oh, Paul,” Daisy said, through her tears, why do 
you distress us so ? dear brother ! ” 

I ain’t your ^ dear brother ’ and never was. You 
can’t come that over me. Let me go, will you ? ” to the 
doctor, who vouchsafed no reply. 

Have you had any supper ? ” asked Daisy. 

Don’t want any. Will you let me go ? I’ll take 
my coat off — so I will, and let you hang on to it all night 
if you want to.” ^ 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


269 


Is that scarf a sufficient protection for your head ?” 
Thurston whispered to Daisy. 

Oh, yes ! I am very warm.” 

Your cheeks are flushed.” 

I was so angry,” she whispered, regretfully. 

My darling,” he murmured. 

^^What are you talking about?” demanded Paul. 
^^Any body knows that whispering ain’t polite in 
company.” 

“ Paul, Paul,” cried Daisy entreatingly. 

Don’t you talk ; you’re mad.” 

Paul,” burst from the doctor’s lips. 

I won’t ever take any of your old medicines,” cried 
Paul, threateningly, and I’ll tell all the boys I know to 
tell their fathers not to — I will ; and they won’t do it if 
I say not.” 

Paul, remember whom you are speaking to,” said 
Daisy, while Thurston, holding his tongue between his 
teeth, vowed that his first act as the child’s brother-in-law 
would b§ to shake him soundly — not for the threat but 
for his conduct toward his sister, and his impertinence 
generally. 

He’d better remember who he’s holding,” Paul 
muttered in reply to his sifter. 

To the relief of all, Horatio was seen rapidly 
approaching them. So you’ve got him,” he said, as he 
met them. I am glad they are under your protection, 
doctor.^*' 

He’s holding on to me,” growled Paul. 


270 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


- ^ Well I’ll hold on to you a bit now,” grasping his 
collar on the other side. 

Were you alone long, Daisy ? ” 

‘^No; the doctor came almost directly; before it 
was near dark.” 

consider myself very fortunate in arriving just 
at that time,” said the doctor. 

‘^I’m very glad you did. I came the moment I got 
home. Mother and the girls were very much worried 
about Daisy. Herbert should have come with her, or 
sent for me.” 

Thurston thanked the kind fortune that had kept 
Herbert at home, and prevented their sending for Hora- 
tio, though he did not want Daisy to take anymore such 
dangerous excursions in the future. Your sister was 
not long alone,”’ he said, simply. 

Yes, but — you young rascal!” The latter was 
addressed to Paul, who, having been transferred from 
Thurston’s strong hold to Horatio, had managed to free 
himself, and was running back at full speed. Hora- 
tio started after him. Go on,” he shouted back ; 
for Thurston and Daisy stood waiting. I’ll have him 
in a moment.” 

“ Don’t be troubled, Daisy,” Thurston said as they 
walked on, looking down on her anxious face. 

He is my brother,” she said, simply. 

^‘But he is young yet, and will grow better as he 
grows older.” 

^‘Age does not reform sinners. As the child is so 


DAISY BREJ^TWELL. 


271 


tlie man will be. These seeds of wickedness sown, so 
early cannot fail to bring forth bad fruit.” 

“We trust that they will be plowed up before they 
take root.” 

“ But there will be the deep furrows left in his young 
heart.” 

“ Which we will leave God to heal. It is all in His 
hands. You are catching cold,” he added, as Daisy 
shivered. 

“ Ho ; I am not, and I am getting well.” 

“You are not getting well, and will not until you 
take that trip to the South which I advised.” 

“ Then I shall never be well ; for it is settled that I 
cannot go South.” 

“It is settled that you can. I am going in the 
autumn, and I shall take my wife.” 

“Your wife !” she echoed, forgetting for a moment 
the new relation. 

“My wife,” he repeated. “We will spend a few 
months there on our wedding trip,” taking it all in his 
own hands, as it is the fashion of men to do. “ How, 
is it impossible.” 

“Hot impossible — ^but so soon ? ” 

“ So soon ! It is three long months yet. It is so long, 
Daisy mine, — so long before you are a part of niyself — ” 

He was interrupted by Horatio’s coming, with Paul 
again a captive. “ Hold on to him on the other side,” 
he cried breathlessly. “You won’t get off again, my fine 
boy.” 


272 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


I will if I want to,” said Paul, largely. You 
couldn’t have caught me this time if I hadn’t let 
you.” 

I’m glad you let me then,” answered Horatio. 

The family were anxiously waiting for them on the 
rectory porch. Mr. Brentwell had returned, and he 
came down the path to meet them. He greeted the 
doctor quietly. And this is my son,” he said sadly, 
releasing Paul from his captors, and leading him to the 
house. Where did you find him, Daisy ? ” 

Daisy gave the assembled family an account of her 
evening adventures — save one scene ! Christie wept : 
Lestie rebuked. They all, the doctor included, entered 
the house to hold a council, where they should determine 
what course they should pursue to reform Paul. 

He must be hungry,” said Mrs. Brentwell, hasten- 
ing to the cupboard : ‘‘he shall have something to eat.” 

“ I don’t think he needs any supper to-night, Mar- 
tha,” said Mr. Brentwell. 

“ I’m hungry,” cried Paul from the lounge, where he 
had thrown himself. 

“ If he were my boy,” said Horatio, “ lie would be 
locked up for a week, and fed on bread and water.” 

“I ain’t your boy,” from the depths of the pillow. 

“ I don’t know,” said Mr. Brentwell, despairingly. 

“ He ought to be sent to bed,” said Horatio. 

“Hot without his supper,” said Mrs. Brentwell, 
bringing butter and biscuits from the cupl^oard. “ Here, 
dear, sit up.” Paul obeyed with wonderful alacrity. 


DAISY BREJTTWELE. 


273 

''Mother’s poor boy,” she murmured smoothing his 
sunny hair. 

"I haven’t been doing nothing,” he said, with his 
mouth full. It did not take him long to swallow the 
slight repast, and then he was sent to bed. 

" I have done everything,” said Mr. Brent well, as 
the door closed after him, " and everything has failed. 
Martha, I believe we’ve been too lenient.” 

" Oh, George, that could not be ! Kindness is the 
only thing that has any lasting influence over children.” 

"Kindness! he has had kindness all his life. It is 
time we turned over a new leaf, and tried a little severity. 
To-morrow, Herbert, you may go to his school and get 
his books : and tell the teacher that he is not coming 
any more. I shall instruct him myself for the present. 
And, wife, he must never be allowed in the street alone. 
A strict watch must always be kept over him.” 

"Oh, George I ” 

" It is the only course,” the clergyman said. Thurs- 
ton, feeling that he had no settled right as yet to enter 
into the family conference, and fearing that he intruded, 
rose to take his leave. Mrs. Brentwell urged him to re- 
main, and Daisy looked entreatingly up to him. But he 
resisted both these (Outward appeals, and the inward 
appeals of his own inclination, and hastened away. 
" Can you give me an hour to-morrow ?” he said to Mr. 
Brentwell, as they shook hands, " I wish to see you on a 
matter of some importance.” Mr. Brentwell, thinking 
of church doctrines, and the doctor’s possible reforma- 
12 * 


274 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


tion, appointed an hour — as indifferently as if Daisy had 
not sat there, trembling and blushing, and Thurston 
himself been thankful when he was out in the open air. 

What does he want with father, Daisy ? ” Lestie 
asked the moment the door closed after him. The fam- 
ily eyes bore down upon the flushed cheeks, but no one 
dreamt of the truth. 

He did not tell me,” Daisy said simply. 

‘^Perhaps,” said Christie, ^‘he is going to be married 

t 

and wants father to perform the ceremony.” 

‘‘ I hope so,” said Lestie, and that he’ll give a 
large fee.” No one replied to her, or encouraged her 
hopes. Mrs. Brentwell left the room to go softly up 
stairs to her truant boy : Mr. Brentwell went into his 
study, whither Daisy followed him almost immediately. 
He sat by an open window, thinking only of his youngest 
child ; and he looked almost annoyed as she entered. 

I will not stay long, father,” she said, but there 
is something I must say to you.” 

‘^Sit down, child. Is there any thing new about 
Paul ? my poor boy ! ” 

“ No,” she said, seating herself on a stool at his feet : 
it is only about myself — myself and some one else.” 

‘‘Has the night air given youm fresh cold ?” 

“No. I am not hoarse.” 

“ I think you are. Then what have you to say ? ” 

“ Oh, father ! ” Why did he not know without wait- 
ing for her to tell him ? After what the doctor had said, 
it was strange he did not ; but no ; there he sat, think- 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


275 


ing only of Paul, and she must go on without aid. You 
remember,” she said, beginning at the very beginning, 
that I told you that I had to wait for Paul some time.” 

‘‘Yes, yes. Pm afraid that he doesn’t feel much 
repentance to-night. Where had they been ? Which 
direction did the boat come from ? ” 

“I didn’t notice.” 

“ Didn’t notice ! Why what were you thinking 
about ? ” 

“ That is what I want to tell you, father — only lis- 
ten. I was alone and it was growing dark — ” 

“You ought not to have gone alone ; you never could 
have brought the chiM home.” 

“ Perhaps not, but — ” 

“ And he would have been with his evil companions 
yet. Poor boy ! poor boy ! Why wasn’t Horatio sent for ? ” 

“ I don’t know indeed. We thought I could bring 
him — and I did.” 

“You could not have brought him if the doctor had 
not been there. How run away to bed.” 

“Ho, father j I have- something to tell you — ^you 
must know it to-night.” 

“ Of Paul ?” 

“Ho ; myself this time.” 

“ Oh, yes ! so you said.” 

“ I went alone — ” 

“Very foolishly.” 

“ But I did. Paul was not in the hut, and I waited 
there, thinking he must be on the river — ” 


276 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


You thought so. Didn’t you know it ? ” he said. 

Did you wait long ? ” ^ 

‘‘ I really — I really — why father, I didn’t notice the 
length of time — it might have been long — may be it was 
short — I can’t tell indeed.” 

Child, is this the love you have for your brother ? ’’ 

Oh, father, I forgot Paul ! ” 

Forgot him ! ” 

Yes, I did : though it was so wrong — 0 let me 
tell you ! ” 

You are wearing my patience out, waiting to hear 
you. What is it ? Was Paul the worst of them all ? ” 

It is not of Paul. I was alone — ” 

There ! I know that.” 

'^Well, I wanted to tell you that he came. 

^^He ! who ?” 

The doctor.” 

I wish he was here now ; you have a fever.” 

He came, and I was so intent watching for Paul 
that I did not see him — ” 

‘‘ That was right. I am glad you remembered him 
then, if you forgot him afterwards.” 

‘‘I didn’t hear him, and then you know — I cannot 
tell how it happened ! ” • 

Does yotlr head ache ? ” 

0 my head will never ache again. Do listen.” 

Go to bed and I will send for the doctor.” 

He will be here to-morrow to see you.” 

Well, he shall come to-night to see you.” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


277 


May be I do talk a little incoherently, but joy has 
done it.” 

Joy ! joy for what ? Your brother’s sins ?” 

Oh, I love him ! ” cried Daisy, in desperation, tak- 
ing a new start. 

I have no doubt of it : he is your brother.” 

‘^And he loves me,” gathering courage by the 
thought. He does, father, and he asked me to be his 
wife.” 

His wife ! Whose wife ? ” 

The doctor’s ? ” 

Has doctor St. James asked you to marry him ? ” 
gravely. 

‘‘ Yes, father, what will you answer him to- 
morrow ? ” 

This is very sudden : I must think of it, and talk it 
over with your mother. How go to bed. Kiss me good 
night. Have you anything more to say about Paul ? ” 

‘^Ho more. Here is mother now,” as Mrs. Brent- 
well entered the study. 

Kissing her parents good night, she ran off to find 
Horatio, to whom the glad tidings must speedily be 
told. 


CHAPTEE XXIIL 


“ So the truth’s out.” 

I X a remarkably short time all Xewfield was discussing 
the engagement : all Xewlield was commenting upon 
the doctor’s diamond ring on Daisy’s finger. That it 
was a good fit, they could not deny — indeed they were 
quite unanimous in that opinion ; as unanimous, in 
fact, as if there had been a town meeting called, and the 
case well argued. Of course no one was surprised that 
the ring was there. Every one knew that it was going 
on, and had known it all along. Some, who think no 
evil, except when the evil is too plain to be hidden, 
thought that it was the unavoidable -consequence of her 
running after him. Others thought that a physician’s 
wife should be strong and healthy, and that Daisy was too 
delicate. Others declared that it was a sin for an Episco- 
palian and a Presbyterian to marry. Many knew that 
the engagement would soon be broken ; and only those 
who had always known of his engagement to a young 
lady in the city were silent. 

Mrs. Morris had invited a few friends to tea, osten- 
sibly in honor of her newly married daughter, who, 
with her husband, was spending a few days at home, 
but in reality that the engagement might be fully dis- 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


279 


I cussed, and that a few select friends might have an 
opportunity of making their most private thoughts on 
the subject publicly known. Mrs. Pepper, Miss Wells, 
Mrs. Barker and Miss Amelia were the invited guests. 
Miss Amelia declined the invitation, as she could not 
neglect her boarders. 

Mrs. Pepper and Miss Crissy were already there, 
seated in the comfortable sitting-room, industriously 
plying the needle, when the widow arrived. 

Well, Mis’ Barker,” was Mrs. Morris’s greeting, so 
you’re here at last. I was just saying that I guessed that 
you wasn’t coming : you’re mostly so punctual. Where’s 
Miss ’Melie ? ” 

’Melie couldn’t leave home on account of the doctor 
and Silas. She’d have to stay and get their tea — come 
what would.” 

‘‘ I believe in a person’s doing their duty,” said Mrs. 
Pepper. So Miss ’Melie ain’t far wrong there.” 

’Melie she’s devoted to the doctor,” said Mrs. 
Barker. 

I suppose that the doctor is very happy these days,” 
remarked Mrs. Maria West, remembering her own be- 
trothal days. 

He don’t show it, if he is,” said the widow. 

Laws, John used to be so tickled all the time that 
every body noticed it.” 

Mrs. Pepper nodded her head vigorously. That 
tells the whole story,” she said. When I first con- 
sented to marry my man, he didn’t know whether he 


280 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


stood on his head or his heels. That tells the whole 
story, and it agrees pretty well with what Paul told me 
about it. He saw the whole thing.” 

What did he tell you ?” cried Miss Wells eagerly. 

If you’ll never say a word, or let on I told you — ” 

‘‘Oh, never, never ! ” cried the ladies in a chorus. 

“Paul’s an awful bad boy,” Mrs. Pepper went on, 
“ and there’s no telling how much harm he’d do, so I 
forbid my boys going with him. Still I felt kind o’ 
sorry for him, considering that he’s going right to ruin, 
and I made up my mind to talk to him about his evil 
ways the first chance I got. Well I got the chance the 
other day. I was going up by the house, and there was 
Paul leaning over the gate all alone, and I stopped. I’d 
heard that they don’t let him go into the street alone any 
more, so I says, just to geP the subject started : ‘ Why 
ain’t you out playing with the boys ? ’ That set him 
agoing. He laid the whole blame on Daisy and the 
doctor. ‘ If it hadn’t been for me,’ says he, ‘ she 
wouldn’t never have got him. She was running after 
me when she kotched him.’ I thought if I got him to 
talking to me right freely, I could do him some good, 
and so I asked him what he meant, and he told me all 
about it. It seems that Paul had gone off somewheres — 
to Sam’s, most likely — and staid until it was dark. 
Daisy, she saw the doctor go by, and she took it into her 
head to go after Paul — all alone, mind you, and at night : 
and there was Horatio or Herbert, or any of them, who 
might have gone for him. She calculated the thing just 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


281 


SO as to meet the doctor, when he was coming back. 
There she was, alone in the dark, and what could he do, 
poor man, but ask her to marry hirn ? ” 

Why, of course,” said the widow, ^^he wasn’t so 
much to blame.” 

But to think of her accepting him the very first 
time he offered himself ! ” cried Miss Crissy, greatly 
horrified. 

“ Oh my stars ! ” cried the coquettish Martha, Fd 
like to see the man I’d take up at his first offer.” 

Well, I can' say this much,” said the widow ; the 
doctor ain’t no- wise stuck up about it : he’s more like 
down in the mouth.” 

‘^Do you think he’s sorry ?” asked Mrs. West. 

You don’t say so ! ” cried Miss Crissy. 

“ I told you so,” said Mrs. Pepper, nodding her head 
again. I told you so.” 

‘‘I didn’t say he was sorry,” said Mrs. Barker ; ‘‘I 
said he wasn’t stuck up about it ; or if he is, he keeps it 
to himself.” 

“We understand,” said Miss Crissy. 

It would have come out in a few moments more that 
the doctor was going into a slow decline for grief of his 
bonds, that he had tried to break the engagement, and 
that Daisy had refused to let him, and many other fear- 
ful things which the doctor had tried to conceal, if the 
conversation had not been interrupted by the coming of 
John West. He entered the sitting room with his coat 
off and hat on, and seated himself on a low chair by 


282 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


Maria. He was then introduced to the ladies, whom 
he greeted with a stiff nod of his head. 

^^Well, old woman,” he said to his wife, ‘‘how are 
you getting on ? ” 

“How, John, don’t be calling me ‘old woman.’” 

John burst into a loud laugh. 

“ What else be you ? You see,” addressing the 
ladies, “ my old woman is tender on the subject of her 
age.” 

“ As if she was old ; ” said Martha. “You ought to 
he ashamed of yourself.” 

“ It’s the way,” he said, with a great wink of his eye. 
“ Get these girls married once.” 

“ Then what ? ” demanded Martha. “ I don’t helieye 
the doctor’ll talk that way when he’s married.” ‘ 

“ You’ll find out what he’ll do, when he’s tied up.” 

“ When he’s tied up,” significantly observed Mrs. 
Pepper. 

“ So the minister’s daughter’s got a beau,” said Mr. 
West. “You had a beau once, didn’t you, old woman ? 
and you kep’ tight onto him until you got him into 
harness.” 

“ I’d like to have a mun talk like that to me,” said 
Martha, contemptuously. 

“ Of course you would,” returned John, resting his 
feet on a neighboring table. “ Of course you would : 
what girl wouldn’t ! ” 

“ Oh my stars, Maria ! I’d never have married him.” 

“That’s a good one. Ha ! ha ! Why wasn’t you so 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


283 


free with your advice before the parson tied the 
knot ?” 

You’re awful, John West ! ” 

I went to the parson,” John continued, and I 
says, ‘ Maria’ll raise the town if I don’t marry her ; and 
as long as I got to be yoked, I want you to do the yokin’. 
^ I’ll be hanged ! ’ says the parson, ‘ if it don’t take them 
women folks to hook a fellow. There’s Mis’ Brent- 
well—’” 

I don’t believe one word of it,” interrupted Martha. 

What’s the use of my setting here, wasting my 
breath on you, if you don’t believe a word I say ? 
Mother Morris, ain’t it most eatin’ time ? ” 

I think it is, John. The kettle’s been boiled this 
half hour. Martha, pull out the big table and set it.” 
Maria and Martha set the table together. The supper 
was soon ready, and the ladies gathered around. 

Before that meal was over, it was finally settled that 
although Daisy had succeeded in entrapping the doctor, 
she would not be able to keep him long. 


CHAPTEK XXIV. 


And slowly was my mother brought 
To yield consent to my desire ; 


She wished me happy, but she thought 
I might have looked a little higher.” 


— Tenntsok. 


X the day of Mrs. Morris’ tea party Mrs. St. James 



sat alone in her parlor, reading the city papers. It 
was two weeks since she had received a letter from 
Thurston, and she was afraid that some accident had 
happened to him. To make certain that this was or was 
not the truth, she was reading the papers thoroughly. 
It was Thurston’s habit to write home twice a week, 
so there was some cause for anxiety. 

There came a violent ringing at the door. She 
threw down the paper she held, and listened eagerly. 
^‘The postman surely,” she said, as the street door 
opened. Then she heard a young voice inquiring for 
her, and her heart sank again. 

The parlor door opened, and a tall, elegantly attired 
young lady entered. 

^'Dear Mrs. St. James,” she said, hastening to 
embrace her. How glad I am to see you ! How anx- 
ious you are looking ! ” 

^'I am glad to see you, dear. I am still anxious 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


285 


about Thurston ; I have not beard from him yet. Has 
Wolcott a letter ? or you ?” 

I ! oh no ! ” with a short laugh, seating herself. 

He rarely writes to me nowadays. He has forgotten 
me completely.” 

Oh no ; that is not possible. Has Wolcott received 
a letter ? ” 

don’t think that he has.” 

^ ‘ This silence is unaccountable. I have been look- 
ing over these papers, thinking that if there had been an 
accident I should see an account of it there.” 

“An accident ! Put them away, Mrs. St. James, do. 
You are giving yourself needless anxiety. Thurston is 
well, or you would have heard of it. Perhaps,” she 
added, with a short laugh, “ he has met some charming 
country lass, who has so completely bewitched him that 
he has forgotten you.” 

“ That is impossible. Ho woman could make him 
forget his mother. Ho ; Abby, he is sick or dead.” 

“ It may be that he is coming home soon.” 

“That would not prevent his writing — even if he 
intended a surprise. Ho ; there is something the mat- 
ter, and if we don’t hear from him by to-morrow, I 
think, Abby, I will go to Hewfield to see if he is dead 
or alive. Mayne will accompany me.” 

Miss Emerson left her chair for the ottoman at Mrs. 
St. James’ feet. “ And I,” she said, softly. 

“You, Abby ! ” 

“ Yes, I — that is if he will not think it bold.” 


286 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


If he is alive, you mean. No, he will never think 
that of you. Ah, here is Wolcott,’’ as a gentleman 
entered the room. 

^^Good afternoon, mother,” he said, bending to kiss 
her. Ah, Abby ! you here ? ” 

^^Have you heard from Thurston, Wolcott ?” asked 
the mother. 

From Thurston ! ” searching through his pockets. 

Why, where’s that gone ? Yes, I have a letter if I 
could only find it. Ah ! here it is. Kead it aloud : I 
want to hear what he has to say for himself.” 

Where are my glasses ? ” she cried, trembling with 
joy. I had them a moment ago. I am so thankful, 
Wolcott, that it has come.” 

So ami. Don’t mind your glasses. I’ll read it.” 

He tore it open, and glanced hastily over it. What 
is this ? ” he cried. Confound him ! ” 

** What is the matter ? ” cried Abby. 

What has he done ? ” asked Mrs. St. James. 

''What has he done ! In plain English he has 
made a fool of himself. We might have known it. Still 
I used to think Thurston had sense.” 

" Oh ! what is it ?” Mrs. St. James took the letter 
in her own hand, but the glasses were still missing. 
" Eead it, Abby,” she said. 

"No,” said Wolcott, "if it must be read, I will 
read it.” 

"Darling mother,” it began, "forgive this long 
neglect. I know it has caused you great anxiety, and I 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


287 


do not forgive myself for it. I am perfectly well, as I 
have been ever since I came to Newfield. I am very 
busy, but that is not my excuse for not writing. My 
excuse 1 I must confess to you and receive pardon. 
Where shall I begin ? Dear mother, you first taught me 
the lessons of love, and I learned them well. 

‘‘When I came to this village I was alone and 
felt alone, but now that is over : I love and am loved by 
one of the purest and loveliest women on earth. There ! 
I have told you, mother, why I could not write be- 
fore — ” 

Wolcott paused. 

“ Kead on,” whispered Abby. 

“ What does he mean ? ”said Mrs. St. James. 

“I told you what he means : he has made a fool of 
himself,” said Wolcott in no gentle tone. 

“ Eead on,” whispered Abby again. 

“ The woman I have learned to love is the oldest 
daughter of the Eev. Mr. Brentwell, the Episcopal 
clergyman in this place. We are engaged and hope to 
be married in the autumn. There, that is all. I have 
delayed writing, foolishly fearing that it might pain you. 
But knowing so well that what gives your children hap- 
piness adds to your own, I cast aside the fear and write. 
Send me your blessing, mother, and your love to Daisy, 
my little Daisy. Her right name is Deborah ; and she 
is truly worthy of the name. 

“ Your loving son, 

“ Thurston.” 


# 


288 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


There was a silence. Wolcott leaned against the 
marble mantel-piece, frowning, and wishing to himself 
that Daisy, my little Daisy” was in the ‘^Eastern 
Penitentiary.” 

Abby sat motionless, not realizing it all, yet way 
down in her heart firmly resolving that the next time 
she was won the wooing would be done by the man 
himself and not by his family. She loved Thurston, 
but not deeply. She was too intensely selfish to love 
any one to a great extent, but her pride was wounded, 
and she thought, as we often do, that it was her heart. 

Well, mother,” said Wolcott, at length, what do 
you think of your boy now ? Hang that ‘ Daisy,’ or 
whatever he calls her — some poor upstart who has 
entangled him.” 

Don’t, don’t, Wolcott,” said Mrs. St. James. 

I’ll write to him this day, and give him a piece of 
my mind. I shall let him know that he can’t bring low 
creatures into our family.” 

You will not do that ; for my sake.” 

What right has he to do such a thing without con- 
sulting us ? ” 

The rights of a man,” said Mrs. St. James, trying 
to believe her own words. 

You seem pleased,” impatiently. 

I am not pleased ; she is not one whom I would 
have him marry. I had rather that he looked in another 
direction ; but I don’t know her and may love her dearly 
when I do. At least, I shall always remember that she 


DAISY BRElfTWELL. 


289 


is my son’s wife. Wolcott/’ she added, ^^You will 
allow me to communicate this to your father.” 

I certainly shall never mention the subject to him. 
There is Mayne talking in the entry. Mayne,” he called. 
A tall light haired young man entered. 

‘^1 heard there was a letter from Thurston,” he said, 
when the greetings were over, “ and I came to hear what 
he had to say. Why do you all look so grave ? has any- 
thing happened ? ” 

^^Eead that,” cried Wolcott, giving him the letter, 
am glad of that,” Mayne said, quietly, when he 
had read it. When you write, mother, tell him that I 
shall be up next week, if the babies are willing.” 

‘‘Come, Abby,” said Wolcott, stiffly. “Good-bye, 
mother. On second thought, I shall not write to 
Thurston ; but in the future, I shall let him entirely 
alone. I am done with him.” 

“ Dear Wolcott,” entreatingly, 

“He deserves it.” 

“ Deserves it for what ? ” said Mayne. “ You 
married whom you pleased, and so did I.” 

“ We didn’t disgrace the family,” was Wolcott’s 
reply, as he left the room. Miss Emerson quietly took 
leave of Mrs. St. James and, sweeping almost scornfully 
past Mayne, followed Wolcott from the house. 

“Mayne,” Mrs. St. James said, as the street door 
closed after them — “Mayne, has Thurston done right 
by Abby?” 

“ Yes, mother, he has. Wolcott has tried to force 
13 


290 


DAISY BEEHTWELL. 


her upon him, and you have all been anxious for him to 
marry her ; but he has never intended to give her any 
encouragement. I can answer for him there. He told 
me once, however, that if he never met any one he liked 
better, he supposed he would marry her for your sakes — 
that is all. He has met some one whom he likes better, 
you see. When you write him, tell him I will be up 
next week, babies or no babies.” 

^^When she wrote him.” How eagerly Thurston 
watched for the letter. At last it came. 

‘‘My Daklihg Sou, 

“ Your long silence caused us great anxiety ; we 
had feared everything, but were not quite prepared 
for the intelligence you had to communicate.” (Here 
Mrs. St. James made a very long pause in writing, but 
Thurston saw no break, and read on. ) “I send you my 
blessing, praying for your happiness, dear boy, and that 
she may prove herself worthy of your love. Yes, give 
her my love. Mayne desires me to say that he will be 
in Hewfield next week. To-morrow I will write you a 
long letter. But no more now. 

“Dear Thurston, darling son, is your conscience 
clear where Abby JEmerson is concerned ? 

“ Your loving mother, 

“ Deboeah St. James.” 

“Yes,” said Thurston emphatically, “ it is.” 


CHAPTER XXy. 


nV/riSS NETTIE was dead. All Newfield rang with 
^ the news ; Newfield hearts donned mourning robes 
again. She went out of the world one soft June day, 
when it was the most beautiful. She had been ill but a 
few days. Thurston, Horatio and Daisy were with, her 
when she died. They were young; and in the fresh 
bloom of life could^not understand the readiness, the 
willingness with which she gave up that life. The 
earth was so fair to them; there was so much- to live 
for ; so rnany happy days in the future. Thurston and 
Daisy looked forward to their life of love as one dream, 
where no care could enter, where there would be no 
tears, and all smiles ; Horatio had plans of a glorious 
career ; there was a world to be conquered, and they 
thought of Death as of an unwelcome messenger, who 
would call them away from this happiness they had 
planned for themselves. 

Mother Wade again assumed charge of the house, 
and remained until after the funeral and disposal of the 
furniture. ' The funeral services were held in the 
church, and she was laid to rest by her well-beloved 
brother — and the Doreanns were gone from Newfield. 
Newfield without one of the family ! How would it 


292 


DAISY BEEiq-TWELL. 


seem ? Only the oldest remembered the day when the 
doctor first moved there. One by one that little family 
had gone ; Mrs. Doreann, the doctor, and now Nettie. 
^‘1 am the last leaf/’ she would say — ^^the last leaf 
upon the tree. Thus far I have withstood the autumn 
winds, but the wintry blast will shortly come and bear 
me away.” 

To her friends she bequeathed the few remaining 
articles of a once gay wardrobe. There were three silk 
dresses for the rector’s daughters ; a blue, a black and a 
brown, and to determine how these should be distrib- 
uted to advantage and satisfaction the girls held a 
council. ' * 

Leslie, as chairman, was seated on the floor with 
the dresses spread around her. Daisy, in her mother’s 
chair, slowly rocked as she surveyed them. Christie 
knelt by Daisy, looking on the blue silk with longing 
eyes — ^just as Leslie did. 

^^You both know,” was Leslie’s opening address to 
the meeting, that Daisy can’t wear blue.” 

Of course not,” said Christie. 

She looks like a fright in it,” Leslie went on and 
the brown will make her a good travelling dress.” 

I can’t afford to travel in silk yet,” said Daisy, 
who preferred the black : my first one, at any 

rate.” 

Your first ! I wouldn’t own it. Do you want the 
black one then ? ” 


Which do you want ? ” 


DAISY BREOTWELL. 


293 


You know you can’t wear blue.” 

‘‘1 know, but Christie can.” 

Never mind me. I was thinking, Lestie, that it 
would be better if we gave two of them to Daisy toward 
her outfit — ” 

^^She can’t have silk dresses and get married and 
everything,” cried Lestie. . 

^‘No, indeed,” said Daisy, ‘‘I must take but one. 
When I’m married I shall have a great many more fine 
dresses than either of you will.” 

To be sure,” said Lestie. 

^^It seems,” said Christie, ^^as though we ought not 
to enjoy these dresses so much when Miss Nettie is 
dead.” 

Well, it’s to be hoped that she’s enjoying herself 
too,” returned Lestie. ^^Now, which do you want ? 
Do, one of you, say. Christie, do you want the black ? ” 

Don’t you ? ” looking at the blue. 

No : I don’t,” decidedly. 

Let’s draw lots,” said Daisy. 

^^No,” said Lestie, who felt certain that she would 
never be scL.fortunate as to draw the blue silk — ‘^no: 
that would be wicked, and you know it. I am sur- 
prised to hear you talk so. Christie, this brown will be 
real becoming to you, and the black will suit Daisy.” 

And which will you take ?” asked Daisy. 

Oh, the blue I suppose ! ” indifferently. 

We’ll decide then,” said Christie suddenly, that 
the blue silk shall be Lestie’s.” 


294 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


> 


There was a short pause, while Lestie looked at the 
black, wondering if ever in future years she would ^ 
regret that she had chosen the blue ; but Christie had ' 
made the decision, and she would have her to blame. 

The brown shall be mine,” said Daisy, at length. 

No : you shall have the black,” said Christie. j 

I don’t want it,” gathering up the brown. ^^See 
how wide this skirt is. I do believe it is the widest of 
them all.” 

Oh, so it is ! ” said Lestie, regretfully : ^^but then,” ■ 
resignedly, you are the oldest and ought to have the 
best.” 

^‘^The best! it’s the very worst,” cried Christie, 
holding out the skirt. ‘^It’s torn in this breadth, and 
faded in ever so many places. I don’t believe I’ll take 
the black, Daisy.” 

I believe you will.” 

Lestie got up from the floor, and tried the effect of 
the blue before the glass. ^ 

There’s the doctor,” cried Christie, looking out of 
the window, coming up the walk with such a hand- f 
some man. Do look, Daisy.” ]■ 

Daisy gave one hurried glance at the handsome 
stranger, and went with the dresses into her mother’s bed- y 
room. She stopped a moment to smooth her curls 
before the glass, and to quiet her beating heart. 

M 

Thurston had entered, when she returned to the 
sitting-room, and was introducing the stranger as his \ 
brother. Mr. St. James scarcely waited for a formal 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


295 


introduction to Daisy : he took both her hands in his, as 
he said, I am glad to meet you. Miss Brent well. I 
had intended visiting Newfield a long time ago, and 
delayed it, but when Thurston wrote to us of you, I said 
I must come immediately, and here I am.” 

Welcome to Newfield,” Daisy said, smiling. 

Thank you. Newfield looks like a pleasant place, 
but still it is not the Eden that mother has pictured it 
to herself and us.” 

Mother must see it,” said Thurston, as they took 
chairs. Is Horatio at home ? ” 

5e has gone for his books,” answered Daisy. 

I want my brother to make his acquaintance.” 

He will be back soon, I think ; for he has been gone 
a long time.” 

It is really remarkable what progress he makes in 
his studies,” Thurston went on, with some pride of his 
future brother-in-law. 

I don’t wonder at his progress,” said Christie ; for 
his whole heart is wrapt up in his studies ; he is never 
without a book.” 

^^Yes,” added Lestie, laughing, ^^and he is always 
perscribing for us if we are the least sick.” 

He will make a mark in the world,” Thurston 
said to his brother. 

“ From what his sister said of him, I should think he 
would. A man’s heart must be ^ wrapt up,’ in his work 
to succeed, and where it is ^ wrapt up,’ he will succeed. 
Ho half way work ever amounts to anything. It 


296 


DAISY BREIITWELL. 


must be study, work, plod through life, genius or no 
genius, and then a man will make himself a name. Has 
he chosen the medical profession ? ” 

Yes,” answered Daisy. ‘‘He is studying with 
Thurston.” 

“ Horatio has genius,” said the doctor, in reply to 
his brother’s remarks, “or I should not liave such hopes 
of his becoming a great man. I am not a believer in 
that theory that men can create unto themselves a 
genius.” 

“ I am,” said Mr. St. James ; “ I. am a firm believer 
in it. Men can make themselves what they will by study. 
The great genius we hear so much of is, in fact, only 
an inordinate love of study, and a determination to 
overcome all the diflSculties that may lie in the way of 
success. A man by great industry and ;^erseverance 
accomplishes an incredible amount of work ; he amasses 
great learning, and becomes noted — men say he has 
genius.” 

“ You cannot deny that there is a great difference 
in intellects,” said Thurston; “we see that in the 
unlearned masses.” 

“ I acknowledge that : there are few minds like Sir 
Isaac Newton’s, but it is well known that he attributed 
his great inventions to this constant reflection upon 
them. They were always before his mind.” 

“ Oh, well,” said Lestie, going back to the original 
subject, “ Horatio is talented : he always was, and he 
may have an intellect like Sir Isaac Newton’s.” 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


29 ? 


is not impossible/’ said Mr. St. James. Many 
a man has had an intellect, not only equal, but superior 
to Newton’s, and would have made a greater man if he 
had not neglected to improve it. He may have felt the 
power within him, but there being no royal road to 
learning, and he, not having resolution or perseverance 
to plod in the old one, remained where he was. All of 
which goes to prove my statement that it is not so much 
genius but plodding which makes the man.” 

Another discussion on the carpet,” said Mr. Brent- 
well, coming iu at that moment. ^AYho is getting the 
best of it ?” he said, when he had been introduced to 
Mr. St. James. 

‘^1 think my brother is,” said Thurston. ^^He 
generally gets the best of every discussion : he has a 
wonderful gift of speech. I begin to think, Mayne, 
that you would have made a first class extempore 
speaker.” 

You think I have a genius for it, do you ? ”^he 
said, laughing. ^MYell, if I have, I have ^ertainly 
neglected to improve it, and some man witlf no genius 
at all will work and study and then astound the world 
^with his eloquence, and I shall never he heard of, 
because I lack ambition and application.” 

^'Here is Horatio with the books,” Lestie cried, a 
half an hour later, running out to meet him. Horatio 
at last.” She was followed by Thurston and Daisy, 
while Christie went up stairs to see if everything was in 
readiness to receive them. The book-case was to be set 
13 * 


298 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


up in Horatio’s room. Such a merry time as they did 
have ! The children carried tlie books up, while 
Horatio and the doctor arranged them on the shelves. 
Mrs. Brentwell stood by, commenting and approving. 
Mr. Brentwell and Mr. St. James came up after a while, 
and pronounced the library a fine one. Lestie lamented 
that there were no novels ; Paul regretted the absence 
of Indian adventures ; Christie looked in vain for poems, 
and Daisy found the only non-medical work — a cook book. 

So Horatio was monarch of all the books he surveyed. 

The doctor and Mayne departed soon after. Mr. 

St. James had not yet been presented to Mrs. Barker 
and Miss Amelia. They found the ladies anxiously 
awaiting them. There had been an accident down the 
road, and a man nearly killed, and the doctor was * 
wanted immediately. He introduced his brother ahd 
hastened off, leaving him to the mercy of the widow’s 
tongue. She was very well pleased with this arrange- 
ment, and began her attack without loss of time. ' 

‘Ht’s pretty good of you, I take it, to come up from : 
Philadelphy to see your brother. ” 

‘‘I take it that we have quite neglected him,” 
Mayne returned, ‘‘ knowing how impossible it is for him 
to leave the place for any length of time.” 

There hav’n’t any of you visited Newfield before, ' 
that is true. He must have felt riled.” 

“ Oh, no ; he understands what time business men 
have to run around. However, one of us should have 
been up before.” * 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


299 


How do you like Hewfield ? ” ventured Miss 
Amelia. 

^^Very well. I should like to spend some time in it.” 

Then you ain’t going to stay long ? ” said the widow. 

^^That is impossible.” 

^‘1 always meant to ask the doctor if he’d heard 
where the Brightens moved to. They went to Phila- 
delphy to live. Perhaps you know.” 

Brighton ! Alexander Brighton ? ” 

^^Tom Brighton.” 

‘‘ I know a gentleman by the name of Alexander 
Brighton, but not Tom.” 

Maybe his cousin. Tom’s a nice fellow. You 
might ask Alexander about him. He was terrible anx- 
ious to marry ’Melie one spell.” 

There, Mary, don’t tell that. You know I never 
thought he was in earnest.” 

“ In earnest ! When a man tags a girl around like 
he did you, he’s in earnest.” 

‘^Well, I’ve read that men make love to girls to 
break their hearts, so I haven’t any faith left,” Miss 
Amelia said. 

^^And so refused this well-meaning honest man,” 
said Mayne, “ because some one at some time has written 
a lie about men generally. It is too bad. Miss Barker, 
that you cannot undo that piece of work, and marry the 
victim.” 

^^How there’s the doctor,” said Mrs. Barker, ^‘any 
one can see that he’s in earnest. Did you see Daisy ? ” 


300 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


We called there this afternoon.” 

Do ypu like her ?” 

Very much. She will make a good wife.” 

Yes, I’ye told him that a hundred times. But,” 
she added, ‘^site’s got one faulV’ 

‘‘ One ! That’s quite a relief. The majority of 
women have a million. Even my wife has two or three. 
But to have only one is really comforting. I must con- 
gratulate the doctor again.” 

She has one fault,” repeated the widow, in 
surprise. 

I’m really glad that she has one ; for if she had 
none, she would be too pure for this earth.” 

He nodded wisely, and the widow stared blankly, 
didn’t mean anything against her,” 'she said, at 
length. “There ain’t a nicer girl in Newfield than 
Daisy Brentwell, but we all have our faults.” 

“ By the million,” rejoined Mayne, “ and that is the 
reason that I rejoice that she has but one.” 

“ I hope you won’t say anything to the doctor about 
it,” said the widow, still ignorant of his meaning. 

“ Oh, no ; it wouldn’t be necessary ; he’s found out 
before this that she is almost faultless.” 

“Here’s Silas,” said the widow, with a sigh of relief. 

“ Your son, Mrs. Barker ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; one of the boarders. Silas, this is Mr. St. 
James, the doctor’s brother. He’s awful bashful,” she 
added, indefinitely. Thanks to the doctor’s training and 
example, Silas had overcome a great deal of his former 


DAISY BREIITWELL. 


301 


bashfulness, and greeted Mr. St. James with such self- 
possession and ease that that gentleman began to think 
the widow must have meant that he was bashful him- 
self. 

Silas remained in the sitting-room at Mrs. Barker’s 
invitation, and by the time Thurston returned had 
become quite well acquainted with Mayne. Supper was 
announced immediately on the doctor’s entrance. 

As they seated themselves at the table, a carriage 
drove up to the gate, and a tall lady in mourning 
alighted, followed by a servant maid. 

Who can that be ? ” cried the widow. 

'^It’s Jessie, Mary,” said Miss Amelia. Don’t you 
know your own daughter ? ” 


CHAPTEE XXVL 


“ Tour face hath got five hundred pounds a year ; 
Yet sell your face for five pence, and ’tis dear.” 


—King John. 


ES. JESSIE SCOTT was a beautiful, soulless 



_Ly_l_ -vyoman. Byron Scott had married her for that 
beauty, and a fancied love. She had married him for 
his wealth and to free herself from Xewfield. He had 
taken her, an ignorant, poorly-dressed bride, to his high- 
born mother and sisters, to remodel. They were noble- 
hearted women, and Byron never knew the sacrifice it 
cost them to receive her as his wife. They did their 
best for her, and, after a short rigorous training, the 
best proved to be a great deal — outwardly — but no more. 
They could clothe her in fine apparel, but they could 
not put a soul in the beautiful image ^ they taught her 
to be a lady, but they could not make her a woman. 

The few years of her married life had been unhappy ; 
death was a release to Mr. Scott, and certainly she was 
glad to regain her freedom. She was rich now, and a 
lady, and some day she would marry some one who 
would be every way worthy of her, she thought ; Byron 
certainly was not. She had come to Xewfield to spend 
the first period of mourning. While etiquette forbade 
her going into society, she would be a dutiful daughter, 
and remain with her mother. 


DAISY BREJfTWELL. 


303 


j 

Mrs. Scott embraced Mrs. Barker and Miss Amelia, 
with great feeling, and was presented to the gentlemen. 
Silas was a boy, and she entirely overlooked him ; the 
doctor was fine looking, but too quiet and dignified ; 
Mayne she admired, and the few remarks she made 
were addressed to him. She lingered a moment in the 
dining-room, and then followed her mother to the 
chamber prepared for her. 

“ The old house does begin to look respectable, 
mother,” she said, as they entered the room. 

It is elegant,” said Mrs. Barker. Everybody in 
Newfield is going wild over it.” 

I hope ‘ everybody in Newfield ’ won’t be calling 
on me,” said Mrs. Scott, ungraciously. I suppose 
they’ve all been over the house to their heart’s content.” 

“ A few have been to look at it,” said Mrs. Barker, 
quietly, remembering the invitations she had scattered 
so freely abroad. 

They’ve seen all they will see. I shall only receive 
calls from the Van Pikes and Brentwells. Are any of 
the Brentwell children grown up ? ” 

Daisy is.” 

Daisy ! that sickly little spit-fire ? ” 

She’s a fine young lady now, and engaged to the 
doctor.” 

‘‘ The doctor ! what doctor ? ” 

Dr. St. James.” 

The brother of that elegant man ? Well, he isn’t 
much.” 


304 


DAISY BREIs^TWELL. 


Yes, he is, Jessie. He is always quiet, and to-night 
he is worried about a patient, who is dying.” 

""He doesn’t begin with his brother. I wish he 
boarded here instead of the doctor.” 

"" With his wife and three children ! we wouldn’t 
have any room left for ourselves.” 

""He isn’t married !” cried Mrs. Scott. ""How do 
you know he is ? ” 

"" The doctor said so. And he was talking about 
one of the children who had been sick, and I asked how 
many he had, and he said three.” 

"" The idea ! and the other one is engaged ?” 

"" Yes ; to Daisy Brentwell.” 

"" How did she ever get him ? ” 

""That’s more’n anybody but Daisy knows. They 
say the doctor didn’t know, till he was there.” 

Then followed a new version of Mrs. Pepper’s 
account. 

"" Poor man,” Mrs. Scott said, when it was finished. 
"" What a way some girls do have of getting around 
men.” 

""I never did think Daisy would be guilty of such 
actions.” 

"‘ She’s a hoydenish country girl, and what else could 
you expect ? Is the doctor always so dignified ? ” 

"" Yes ; he’s very dignified, but everybody likes him.” 

"" Well, well,” Mrs. Scott said, as her mother left the 
room. ""I didn’t think that he was married.” 

There was no lack of topics for conversation down at 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


305 


the store that night. There was, in fact, so much to be 
said, that Mr. Green delayed closing for an hour beyond 
his usual time. Mayne St. James was well discussed.. 
Some thought that he looked like the doctor, and others 
thought that he did not, and it took some time to settle 
the question. Mr. Green gave it as his opinion that the 
St. Jameses, as a family, were a queer set ; he was 
surprised that Mrs. Barker would allow them in the 
house Avith her daughter. 

Then the Widow Scott came upon the carpet. Her 
manner of entering Newfield was condemned immedi- 
ately. In a barouche ! The expense was calculated, 
and it was some time before they could all agree on that. 
The merits of the horses were spiritedly discussed. Some 
thought that the one with the longest tail was the best 
trotter, while others upheld the one with a white star 
on his forehead. Then there were speculations as to 
the price of the carriage, and its probable age. 

Mr. Green, after giving his own opinion, was un- 
usually silent. He was thinking over his little store of 
neck-ties, and deciding which one he would wear the 
following Sunday evening Avhen he called for the first 
time on Mrs. Scott. Long ago — well, what of that ? 
Long agoes are sad things. Sad ! they are heart-break- 
ing. Aivay with memory — only there had been a time 
when Mr. Green used to think that Jessie Barker could 
have cooked his beef steaks splendidly, and have done 
up his shirts to perfection, and perhaps on Saturday 
night, when the run came, helped in the store. And 


30G 


DAISY BEEITTWELL. 


Mr. Green had known that some one else thought so, 
too, until — never mind the rest. 

Mr. St. James spent a few days in Newfield, and 
went home well pleased with all he had seen and heard. 
His adventures were recited for his mother many times. 
Miss Emerson, who was generally present, for a mo- 
ment forgot her aching heart and was interested and 
amused, but when Daisy was described and talked 
about, the remembrance of her disappointment and 
mortification returned with its old force. 

There was a great change in the Barker household 
after Mrs. Scott’s arrival. The quiet home that Thurs- 
ton and Silas had enjoyed was all gone. There were no 
more friendly talks after tea — talks in which even Silas 
used to join. No, indeed ; and Silas, poor boy, had not 
dared to open his lips since the dashing widow had 
returned, and Miss Amelia tried in vain to make him 
feel at ^ease again. Mrs. Pepper had a tea-party in 
honor of Mrs. Scott, but that lady had no desire to 
attend, and refused the invitation with more decision 
than politeness ; with so much decision and so little 
politeness, in fact, that Mrs. Pepper, highly indignant, 
was heard to say that ‘'^Jessie Barker was the same old 
sixpence : she always was a saucy young one, and no 
one could make a lady of her.” All Newfield was 
snubbed at this refusal to exhibit herself two nights 
after her arrival, and took it as an insult to the village. 

Mrs. Scott had decided to make her first appearance 
in church, and disregarding all entreaties from her 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


307 


mother and aunt, and calls from the neighbors, she did 
so. On the second Sunday after her arrival in the place 
she swept up the aisle during the singing of the Te 
Deum, and took her seat in the front pew. Mr. Brent- 
well preached an impressive sermon that morning from 
the text, Grow in grace,” which a few old men 
listened to, while the remainder of the congregation 
critically and admiringly surveyed the elegant figure in 
the front seat. Thurston came in during the latter 
part of the sermon, as he often did, when he had finished 
his round of visits, and sat down by the door. It was 
not long before Mrs. Scott knew of his presence ; how 
she knew of it, no man can ever tell, though a woman 
might be able to solve the mystery. The little while 
that remained of the service, the widow gave her mind 
entirely to forming plans, and wisely decided That a 
man’s talent would be wasted in escorting plain-faced 
Daisy Brentwell next door, while she, a beautiful woman, 
went unprotected through the quiet streets of Newfield 
at noonday. Sometime handsome women will learn that 
beauty is not all a man seeks, but that it is often the last 
and least. It is something to be thrown in, like sugar 
in coffee at a restaurant ; no more cost, and many are 
willing to go without it. Vanity will have hard knocks 
before this is well understood by the sugar of the world. 
Mrs. Scott was far from understanding it ; her pretty 
face had carried her a great way and it should carry 
her farther. 

The doctor’s horse outside nawed and stamped. 


308 


DAISY BREXTWELL. 


impatient to be off. The good man’s sermon drew to a 
close : the ascription was over, the prayers said, the bene- 
diction pronounced, and the congregation, filled with 
thoughts of Mrs. Scott and her grandeur, quietly 
departed. 

Oh my stars ! ” whispered Miss Morris to Daisy as 
they met at the door, did you ever see such style ? 
I’m just wild for a veil like that.” 

^^That is the deepest mourning,” returned Daisy. 

That’s no matter. Ain’t that bonnet elegant ! ” 
While Martha was detaining Daisy, Mrs. Scott was 
improving the opportunity ; and it was improved so well 
that when Daisy turned to speak to her lover, she saw 
him lifting the widow into his carriage. Thurston 
drove home, wondering why he had done it, but his 
companion’s busy tongue gave him no time for solving 
the question. He was angry with her and with himself, 
and feared that Daisy was troubled. 

He was quiet at dinner — so quiet that Miss Amelia 
asked if he were ill, to which he replied, with more 
dignity than kindness, that he was not. He refused 
Mrs. Scott’s pressing invitation to spend the afternoon 
in the parlor, and went into his office, where he shut 
and locked the door. 

‘‘ There,” he said, she shall stay out.” 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


“ Be every church our home, 

And love the battle word ! 

* And saint’s communion — one, 

One Lord — one Faith — one birth. 

Oh pray to God the Son, 

For all His Church on Earth.” 

—Bishop Coxb. 

TZr^ paper from his writing-desk, and sat down 
to write to his mother. Mrs. Pepper would have 
been horrified at this proceeding, and more horrified 
still, if she had known the contents of that letter. 

My Dakling Mother : 

‘^I have agi'eat deal to tell you this afternoon that 
I could much better say than write. I have not forgot- 
ten our long Sunday talks, sitting together in the bay- 
window, when I used to pour my boyish dreams, my hopes 
and fears into your sympathizing heart, and receive en- 
couragement and aid ; and I want to talk to you this 
afternoon, in that old bay-window, of Daisy. Mayne 
has told you about her, and you have learned from him 
that I was not entirely blinded by love when I made my 
choice ; that reason stepped in, and was allowed a hear- 
ing. I thank you again and again for the manner in 
which you received the intelligence, for your kind letter 
to iHC, and your loving message to Daisy ; but I fear. 


310 


DAISY BBEI^TWELL. 


dear mother, that the next surprising thing I must tell 
will not be as well received. I have decided to abjure 
the old faith, and become a communicant of the Epis- 
copal Church. If I had not become well convinced of 
my error, I would not give you this pain ; but after long 
months of study and close argument with Mr. Brentwell, 
I am convinced that the Episcopal Church is the church 
our Saviour founded when He was upon earth, that she 
is especially beloved by Him, and that her forms and cer- 
emonies are His institutions. It is the historic church. 

I hope that you will not think this change is in 
any way connected with my engagement. I know that 
many charitable people of Newfield will say that I join 
St. Paul’s for the sole purpose of winning the rector’s 
daughter. In my imagination I can hear them saying 
that Mr. Brentwell would not consent to a union until 
I promised to become an Episcopalian. I cannot go 
around the town contradicting this, but I assure you 
that it is not the truth : Mr. Brentwell is not yet aware 
of my determination. It is some time since we last 
conversed on the subject, and he doubtless thinks his 
arguments were lost upon me. I wish it were possible 
for mie to repeat the discussions to you, but I must be 
content with a few remarks, and when I see you we will 
talk it over thoroughly ; for I have a great desire for 
you to become a church-woman. You are very much 
prejudiced against the Episcopal Church. One of your 
objections, I remember, is what you call the heartless- 
ness of Her worship. I have often heard you say, ' All 


DAISY BREITTWELL. 


311 


form and no feeling.’ Mother, you have taught me to 
love the beautiful because God is All Beautiful. He has 
sent beauty into this world to draw hearts to Him : He 
has given everything beauty — why not His service ? 
Every form of beauty, every dignity is employed in the 
service of earthly kings, and should not a higher, 
greater form, a more perfect beauty characterize that of 
our Heavenly king ? In the service of the Episcopal 
Church, God is approached with great humility : He is 
in heaven, and we upon earth. In our intercourse with 
our fellow creatures, those whom we respect we greet 
with form ; our whole intercourse is ceremonious, while 
they who are not our equals are treated with an absence 
of form. And in the loose, unceremonious service of the 
denominations, God is worshipped — treated, I should 
say, as some familiar acquaintance, some careless com- 
panion. In every act of the service you. condemn as 
heartless, the worshippers realize the greatness of His 
glory. Compare the humility and beauty of the Litany 
with the extempore prayers which you hear every 
Sunday — prayers which are more like addresses to the 
Lord, and introductory sermons. They are filled with 
information of the church and country, and the Lord is 
advised how to act in reference to them, and in conclu- 
sion there is a short catechism. The congregation listen. 
Here the denominations and Eomanists agree ; the 
people in both cases are only listeners. The Eomanists 
must do so because the prayers are said in Latin : the 
denominations must, because they have no idea what 


312 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


the prayer is to be, until they hear it. Another great i; 
beauty of the Episcopal Church is the clergyman’s robe, m 
This pure white garment, emblematic of holiness, well 11 
befits a priest serving before the Lord. It is symbolic S 
of the robe of the Saviour’s righteousness, put on that J 
the people may see the clergyman before them, not as a f 
sinful man, but as God’s messenger. I wish, dear i 

mother, that you would read a few books on this subject. A 

Let me recommend Hobart’s Apology ! and ^ Bpisco- S 
pacy Tested by Scripture,’ by Bishop Onderdonk. | 
Let me hear from you soon. i 

Your loving son, f 

Thurston.” 


Darling Son, ' 

i 

At length, I take up my pen to answer your letter. ' t 
It is three days since I received it, and I have just f, 
recovered my senses enough to be able to write to you. k 
I was stunned — yes, stunned by what you wrote, and I S 
have only one reply to make,, and that is, that this is ^ 
the greatest affliction God ever visited upon me. I « 
pray that He may shoAV you the error of your ways, and S 
bring your wandering feet back into the old paths. a 

Mayne was pleased with his visit to Newfield. He ' 
speaks highly of Daisy, and her brother Horatio. He ' 
seems to have taken a great interest in the young man. j 
Abby and I will be in Newfiel(^ next week for a short 
visit. Her health is very poor, and she thinks that a ' 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


313 


few weeks in the quiet country will be of benefit to her 
before the summer at Long Branch. 

Your loving mother, 

Deborah St. James.” 


Dear Thurstoh : 

It is evident that you have fallen among Philis- 
tines. Your first disclosure I passed over with silent con- 
tempt, but the second is too much ; what the third will 
be I can form no idea of : you seem to have gone the 
length of your chain, but the Philistines (the clergyman 
and his daughter) may not have gone the length of theirs. 
When you return to your senses and Philadelphia, I will 
greet you as a brother. Until then you are no more of 
mine. 

Wolcott K. St. James.” 


“ Dear Thurstom : 

am at home again, and so well pleased with 
my visit that I shall soon repeat it. I have told my 
adventures over twenty times (kept count) ; nineteen 
times they were poured into mother’s ears, and I haven’t 
a doubt hut that she was eaves-dropping at the twentieth 
recital. I am not surprised that you have become an 
Episcopalian — though I must say that I regret it. 

I have been thinking a great deal about Horatio 
since I returned, and have settled upon one thing, that 
he must go to college, and I think we can arrange it 
without wounding his pride. When the Medical Uni- 
14 


314 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


versity opens for the fall term, you will be his brother- 
in-law, and can very well advance money for his tuition, 
which I will pay you, without his knowledge. I am 
sure he will accept it from you. My house shall be his 
home while he is here. I wish you would arrange this 
matter with his father, and let me know. I have taken 
a great interest in him, and will do what I can to help 
him. 

Affectionately yours, 

‘^Mayne.” 


Dear Soi^ : 

I have not time to write ; still, I feel it my duty to 
drop a line. Mayne reports favorably of Newfield and 
Miss Brentwell. Accept my best wishes for your happi- 
ness. I don’t send good wishes, however, for this freak 
of joining the Episcopalians. Can see no reason for it. 
Your ancestors lived and died Presbyterians. Are you 
so much wiser in your generation than they ? Change 
is hurtful at all times. A rolling stone gathers no moss ; 
a rolling church gathers no religion. Have you consid- 
ered the matter well ? If Presbyterianism was not right, 
I should have found it out before this, and as it is, the 
Archbishop of Canterbury could not convince me that 
it is wrong. Your mother has laid in a large supply of 
theological works, which she studies. How are your 
money matters ? Drop a line when you want a check. 

Your affectionate father, 

“ Lewis St. James.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 



iHREE rooms ! the large sitting-room and two 


sleeping rooms — and they were on the second floor 
where it cost the most. 

You needn’t tell me,” Abel Scraggs said, when he 
returned to the bar-room — ‘^you needn’t tell me ; that 
chap’s got money if no one else hain’t.” 

What chap ?” asked a lazy looking man, with long 
stretched-out legs. 

^^The doctor,” said the landlord, bustling up and 
down the room. That thing ain’t been done since three 
years ago this summer. Gen. Ross come over with his 
wife and daughter to visit Xewfield a spell ; and he took 
those three rooms in a lump, and kept ’em the hull time, 
payin’ handsome for ’em. Now here’s the doctor come 
and took ’em and is going to pay down too. Them 
three big rooms on the second floor,” impressively. 

‘^Do tell!” said the long-legged man. I didn’t 
know the doctor was to be married right off.” 

’Taint for himself,” replied Abel. 

Who then ? ” cried a little man in a blue shirt. 

Never you mind who, as long as he pays down,” 
said a round man, who was sitting on the counter, vigor- 
ously swinging his legs ; Money’s your object.” 


316 


DAISY BREN-TWELL. 


That’s so/’ groaned a discontented voice. 

Shut your mouth up, Pepper,” returned the round 
man ; ’taint the day for dismals.” 

‘‘ It’s alwa’s the day for dismals,” returned Pepper. 

Come now, Abel, tell us,” said the man of the blue 
shirt. If the doctor ain’t going to be married right off, 
who is ? ” 

^^hTo one to my knowin’. Them rooms is for 
his mother and a young lady what is cornin’ to see 
him.” 

Do tell,” said the long-legged man again. 

Another young lady,” groaned Pepper, as he stored 
away this bit of information to tell his wife. As if he 
hadn’t enough, flirtin’ with the widder and the parson’s 
daughter.” 

Who’s the young lady ? ” asked the little man. 

That’s more’n I’d like to ask any man,” replied 
Abel, especially the doctor with his airs. Law ! a 
hody’d think he lived on starch and pokers, and drunk 
mucilage, and chewed gum arable. There ain’t no askin’ 
his business.” 

He h ain’t been in the bar-room once to my 
knowin’, ’’-said the round man. 

'‘Hary once,” said the landlord, ^Hill this morning. 
Then he walks in as grand as a gobbler, and says he’d 
like some rooms if I have any vacant. Well, I tells 
him, I might have one or two, not mentioning that 
times was dull, and there ain’t over many puttin’ up 
here at present. Well he guessed he’d look at ’em, so I 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


317 


showed him them three. ^ These go together,’ says I, to 
see what he’d say. He asked about their being near to 
the kitchen, and bearin’ they wasn’t, he said bed’ take 
’em.” 

^^Do tell,” cried the long-legged man. 

Now, if that ain’t havin’ more money than a 
fellow can well stand, what is ? I’d no idea he’d take 
’em, especially when he said two ladies was cornin’. In 
my day they’d ’ave took one and slept together. But 
I ain’t findin’ no fault : he’ll pay down handsome.” 

What do you ask him for ’em ? ” said the little 

man. 

‘^Now, Tom Wade,” said the long-legged man, 
that’s what I call a leadin’ question.” 

^‘1 ain’t consarned about what you call it,” re- 
turned Tom. 

I hain’t no objections to tellin’ him, Luke, if he 
wants to know,” said Abel. ‘^It’s fifteen dollars a week 
and boardin’ the two.” 

And he said nothin’ agin’ it,” said the round 
man, to whom the sum of fifteen dollars was a small 
fortune. Whew ! it ain’t picked off of every bush, 
Abel.” 

I never thought I’d pick it off o’ him.’' 

What did you show ’em to him then for ? ” inquired 
Luke Brighton, a hopeful son of Miss Amelia’s ancient 
lover. 

Well, to tell the truth,” said the landlord, I just 
did it to try him. I wanted to see if all they said about 


318 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


him was true. And then again, if he didn’t engage 
them rooms, it would take a pound or so of starch 
out of him to say he couldn’t afford it. But I was took 
there.” 

‘‘ So you was,” cried the round man, rubbing his 
round hands, and laughing — ^^so you was, ’t’was a good 
joke on ye.” 

‘^Well, ’twas a payin’, one,” said Abel, with great 
good humor. ^^And it’s certain he’s got the money 
folks tell on.” 

That’s the way o’ the world,” groaned Pepper ; 
he’s got the money and I hain’t. Some folks has and 
some folks hasn’t. It’s drudge and work with me, and 
lord it with him.” 

Widow Scott made a big penny by that matri- 
monial spec o’ hern,” said Brighton, as if he had not 
just escaped being her cousin. 

A streak o’ luck,” wailed Pepper. 

See here, old melancholy,” said the round man, 
taking a large jack-knife from his pocket, just put an 
end to that miserable existence o’ your’n. I won’t 
charge nothin’ for the use of the knife.” 

Pepper shuddered. ‘'Don’t be foolin’ with a man 
who has a family like mine to support. If they weren’t 
hangin’ round me I might be tempted.” 

“Law, if it wa’n’t for them,” said Luke, “you might 
play round lively, and marry the widder.” 

“ He wouldn’t have a chance there,” said Tom Wade 
of the blue shirt ; “her style’s ahead o’ him.” 


DAISY BREOTWELL. 


319 


dtinno about that,” said Luke, '^t’s the gals 
that’s upish and offish, and wantin’ somebody fine, but 
take a widder now an’ they’ll take up with most any one, 
so ’s ’t he’s respectable and behaves himself generally. 
They don’t wait for their husband to be cold in the 
grave ’fore they’re chasin’ another man.” 

That’s so,” returned Mr. Pepper. 

^^Well,” said Pete, the round man, there ain’t a 
house in IS: ewfield where such style is carried on as they 
have up to Widder Scott’s.” 

‘‘ If you call impudence style, I’m in with you,” said 
Pepper, dismally. 

What now ? ” cried Wade, What’s happened ? ” 

Nothin’ much. Only when folks has been friends 
for years, it ain’t no sign they kin insult ’em.” 

^^In course not,” agreed Pete. 

Well, my woman and Mis’ Barker has been hand in 
glove since they first got acquainted. They’d run into 
each other’s house to borry a bit of any thing as if they 
was to home. But things has altered. The other day 
Mis’ Pepper she run over to the old widder’s a spell. A 
girl comes to the door, and shows her into the parlor — 
for all she says she’ll go right into the kitchen where 
Mis’ Barker is. So she had to set down in the parlor on 
one o’ them fine chairs. The girl she looks at her a 
spell and then she asks her name — ” 

. Do tell,” interrupted Luke. 

Now that ain’t Newfield manners anyhow, if it is 
the way they do in Philadelphy. But my woman she was 


320 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


up to her. ^What’s your name?’ says she. ^Jane/ 
says the girl. ‘Jane what?’ ‘ O’Eiel,’ says the girl, 
laughing as if she was awful pleased. ‘ Well, Miss 
O’Kiel,’ says Mis’ Pepper, ‘ I didn’t come to see you ; I 
come to see widder Barker, and if you just tell me where 
she is, Pll thank ye.’” 

“ It’s my opinion,” said Pete, “ that hired girls ain’t 
a payin’ institution. There’s hayin’ ’em round and 
takin’ their sass — ” 

“Besides,” said Luke, “they waste more’n they 
earn — leayin’ their wages alone.” 

“ And the eatin’,” said Tom Wade. “ Now there’s my 
wife’s second cousin on her mother’s side — she kep’ a 
hired girl ’cause she liyed on a farm. I’ye heard her tell 
how the sassages disappeared. ’Twas a caution.” 

“Well, it’s time / disappeared,” said Pete, jump- 
ing off of the counter, “ or my little woman’ll be after 
me.” 

Meanwhile Thurston droye up the street, as well 
pleased with the bargain as Abel Scraggs himself. His 
mother would haye a quiet home near him for a few 
weeks. He was rather displeased that Miss Emerson had 
taken into her capricious head to come to Newfield. 

Daisy was coming out of the rectory gate as he passed. 
He stopped. 

“ Whither are you bound ? ” he asked. 

“ I am going for a walk for my health, according to 
your commands.” 

“ I am glad that you are obedient,” he said, alight- 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


321 


ing from the carriage. A walk will do a great deal 
of good, but a ride is better. Will you go.” 

Gladly. I don’t ride as often as I did before the 
widow — ” she began, laughing. 

I have made peace with you twice for that,” he 
said, as he lifted her in. How many more times shall 
1 be called to an account ? ” 

As they passed Sam’s hut, sounds of rude laughter 
and loud conversation mingled with oaths greeted their 
ears. Daisy’s heart gave a bound of thankfulness when 
she remembered that Paul was not with them, but safe 
at home. The child’s conduct was better outwardly 
from force, but the inward heart was as wicked and 
rebellious as before. He had not been at Sam’s once 
since the night she had found him there ; for a strict 
watch was kept over him, and he was not allowed in the 
street unless accompanied by one of his parents or 
Horatio. 

‘‘I received a letter from my mother this moiining, 
which I think will interest you,” Thurston said to 
Daisy when Sam’s hut was left far behind. She is 
coming to Newfield next week.” 

Oh, Thurston ; is she indeed ! And I shall see her ? 
I have wanted to so much.” 

‘‘You will see her and love her, too.” 

“ I know I shall love her, but I am afraid she will 
not love me. ” It is not necessary to record the doctor’s 
answer ; suffice to say that it was very much to the point, 
and that Daisy’s fears were assuaged. “She writes,” 
14 * 


32% 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


Thurston said, at length, that Miss Emerson is to 
accompany her.” 

^^Who is she?” 

‘‘She is a cousin of my brother Wolcott’s wife, and 
an admirer of my mother.” He did not add that she 
admired any one else. 

“A young lady ?” 

“ Oh, yes. Is this the end of the road ?” he added, 
as they were stopped by a closed gate. 

“This is the toll gate,” Daisy said, thinking of 
the young lady, and wishing that she would not 
come. 

“Does any one live here ? ” Thurston rapped on the 
house with the whip handle. A tall old- young boy or 
a short young-old man appeared in answer to the sum- 
mons. He might have been fifteen or fifty-five : his hair 
might have been light from extreme youth, or white 
from age ; his smooth face might have indicated boyish- 
ness or frequent and close shaving — no one knew. 
He possessed all the gravity and dignity becoming to 
such an uncertain individual, and replied to Thurston’s 
inquiry concerning the amount of toll as if that one 
word determined the financial affairs of all America : he 
cast his eyes wearily up the road as he spoke. 

“ You have a fine view from here,” Thurston said, 
pleasantly, following the direction of his eyes. 

“ Yes, oh, yes ! ” he returned in a grieved tone, as 
though that view were the one drawback to his earthly 
happiness. 


DAISY BEEKTWELL. 


323 


It extends at least three miles,” Thurston went 
on. Those steeples are in Manning, are they not ? ” 
Yes, oh, yes,” in the same weary tone. “ Here is 
your change.” The last was with reproach mingled with 
surprise that Thurston would accept the money back. 

As they drove away, a child ran out of the door. 
But whether it was the individual’s grandchild or 
younger brother, they were unable to determine. 

The bishop is to be here soon, isn’t he ? ” the doc- 
tor said, as they went on. 

“ In three weeks. There will be a large class. You 
will come to see them confirmed, Thurston ? ” 

I shall be there.” Then he added, after a short 
pause, What would you think, Daisy, if I were to tell 
you that it was my intention to be confirmed then ? ” 
What would I thinh ! I would know that it would 
be the happiest day of my life.” There were tears in 
her eyes as she spoke. Is it true, Thurston ?” 

It is true, my darling. I intend speaking to your 
father about it this evening.” 

I never thought that I should be as happy as I am 
to-day,” she murmured. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


“ And down I went to fetch my bride ; 
But, Alice, you were ill at ease ; 


This dress and that by turns you tried. 
Too fearful that you would not please.” 


—Alfred Tenntson. 


ES. ST. JAMES and Miss Emerson entered New- 



-L’-L field with grandeur quite equal to Mrs. Scott’s. 
Indeed it was the same barouche that she employed that 
hrouglit them. 

Great was Abel Scraggs’ excitement when this dusty, 
w"orn-out vehicle drew up before the ‘‘White Bear.” 
The night before Mrs. Scraggs and he had spent many 
hours practicing the manner in which they would receive 
these distinguished visitors ; but now that they had act- 
ually come, the rehearsed ceremonies fled to the winds — 
as they always do — and Mrs. Scraggs, who was to have 
stood at her husband’s right hand in her Sunday gown, 
was scrubbing the cellar steps in her Saturday gown, 
which was very dampened in front at that. The ladies 
had not been expected so soon, so Mr. Scraggs could do 
nothing but receive them alone with such manners as he 
could muster at the moment. In place of the majestic 
bow of the night before, he bobbed his head a dozen 
times or less, and in such quick succession that Mrs. St. 
James began to wonder if there were any danger of the 


DAISY BEEKWELL. 


325 


little round ball’s breaking off. Instead of Welcome 
to Newfield and the White Bear,” delivered in last 
night’s stentorian tones, he mumbled out something 
about not expecting them so soon, but really was very 
glad ; it was very pleasant to be surprised by friends. 
He insisted upon shaking hands with them. And, in 
conducting them into the little whitewashed parlor, he 
walked upon their trailing robes with as much grace as 
brides tread upon the carpeted street — the performance, 
however, was not so gratifying. When the ladies were 
fairly seated upon the stiff pine chairs, and the white 
painted door closed upon them, the excited landlord 
hastened to find his wife, whose agitation on hearing of 
the arrival was greater than his own ; so great indeed 
that the two bottom steps were not scrubbed, but put off 
for a more convenient season. She ran up the back 
stairs to her own chamber, and hurriedly changed her 
outer garments. The inner ones remained damp, and 
were an unpleasant reminder, during her intercourse 
with the fine ladies, of her more humble pursuits. 

Mrs. Scraggs had so far recovered her usual compo- 
sure, when her Sunday dress was donned, that she was 
able to make the practiced curtesy to the ladies, with the 
best of grace. She seated herself with ease upon one of 
the aforesaid luxuriant seats of pine, and was proceeding 
to entertain them to the best of her poor ability, when 
Miss Emerson cut all attempts at sociability short by 
demanding peremptorily if their rooms were ready to 
receive them. Of course, they were quite ready ; ar- 


32G 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


ranging them had been part of last evening’s pro- 
gramme. And Mrs. Scraggs, seeing that nothing more 
was required of her, conducted them up stairs. Thurs- 
ton had not expected them until afternoon ; but the 
report reached his ears, that a second barouche had been 
seen in Newfield, and he knew that they had come, and 
hastened to the hotel, where he found them awaiting 
him. It was arranged before he left them that Daisy 
would call with him the following afternoon. 

How her heart beat, when he told her ! She had 
looked for their coming so anxiously, and now that they 
were here, she would never dai’e to approach them ; but 
Thurston only laughed at her fears. She donned her 
best garments : a pink muslin dress, white barege 
sacque, and hat trimmed with white. They were not 
becoming, and never had been, and Thurston saw it this 
afternoon for the first time, and entreated her, in a 
manly fashion, to wear a calico morning gown, which 
certainly was becoming, though it was much the worse 
for wear. But she could not wear a calico dress, and 
she felt that she was looking very ugly — she knew it, in 
fact, or Thurston would never have spoken in that way. 
She was very uncomfortable and silent during the short 
walk from the rectory to the White Bear.” Thurston, 
unconscious of having said anything to wound her 
feelings, wondered what was the matter, and hoped she 
would not be so quiet during the call, and ended in 
wishing that Miss Emerson was back in Philadelphia, 
where she belonged. He had occasion to wish that 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


327 


J several times during the short while they spent with the 

I ladies. She snubbed Daisy most unmercifully, and 

engrossed all of the doctor’s attention herself, and not 
I content with this, she endeavored to draw Mrs. St. 

, James into their conversation, and leave the hated 
i visitor sitting unnoticed. But Mrs. St. James would 
I • not allow that. She devoted herself to Daisy, who, to 

I Thurston’s great satisfaction, appeared unusually well. 
She was not a brilliant talker usually, but to-day she 
talked well. 

Miss Emerson’s rudeness had cut her to the heart. 
In simple democratic Newfield every one was on an 
^ I equality ; even the Van Pikes acknowledged that, and 
: ; Mrs. Scott, with all of her pretensions, was not consid- 
i ered one grain above her neighbors. So Daisy had 
^ never known before what it was to be looked down upon. 

She disliked Miss Abby, in spite of all her efforts not to, 
V and she was angry with Thurston because he talked to 
[ '( her. She would never have spoken to any one who 
I ; treated him so, she was sure, and she would let him know 
J that she did not like it. 

[ I The call was a very short one ; Daisy would not stay, 
j I and, in her usual impulsive way, rose to go just as Miss 
1 \ Emerson was in the midst of a graphic description of a new 
; I opera. Thurston preferred to remain a little longer, and 
} she was wicked enough to make that a reason for going. 
> There was not a word spoken between them on their 
• ) way home. Daisy was angry and Thurston was troubled, 
i ; With his usual discernment he saw the look of disap- 

f 

i . 


3^8 


DAISY BREIS’TWELL. 


pointment on liis mother’s face when he introduced his j 

future bride, and the sneering smile with which Miss j 

Abby greeted her. If they could see Daisy as he did ! j- 
If Abby had only staid at home ! He knew that she « 
would influence his mother against Daisy. ♦ 

Will you come in?” Daisy said, coolly, as they \ 
reached the rectory. • 

“ For a little while,” he said, to her surprise ; she 
had supposed he would return to Miss Abby immedi- a 
ately. But he saw that there were clouds between, and 4 
he wanted them cleared away. What were his mother, 4 
Miss Abby, or the world, that they should come between | 
Daisy and him ! Unfortunately the whole family were F 
gathered in the sitting-room. And, seeing that there 
would be no opportunity to say one word to her, he did f 
not remain long. j 

Mrs. Scott and Mrs. Barker called very soon upon I- 
Mrs. St. James and Miss Emerson. The young widow h 
and Miss Abby found to their delight that they were g 
twin souls, and a violent intimacy sprang up between S 
them, which was to strengthen (if possible) with passing 
years. Mrs. Scott, who was of a poetical turn, wrote 
5ome lines upon it, which Miss Abby publicly applauded 
and secretly sneered at. 

There were private picnics of a select few ; so select 
at times that they consisted only of the two young 
ladies. At other times Mrs. St. James went with them, 
and then Thurston would stroll over, and bring them 
home. On one occasion Daisy accompanied him, but 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


329 


Abby’s sneers and Mrs. Scott’s slights were so visible 
that she never could be persuaded to go again. 

Mr. and Mrs. Brentwell exchanged many calls with 
Mrs. St. James ; and, as they grew better acquainted, 
they became great friends, and Mrs. St. James began to 
love Daisy for her own sake, as well as Thurston’s. She 
especially admired Horatio, and before she left the 
village, it was arranged that he should spend the follow- 
ing winter in the city, attending the medical college, 
and that her house should be his home. 


OHAPTBE XXX. 


Ruins 1 A charm is in the word ! 

It makes us smile, it makes us sigh ; 

’Tis like the note of some spring bird 
Recalling other springs gone by, 

And other wood notes which we heard 
With some sweet face in some green lane, 
And never can so hear again 1 ” 


—Hon. Mrs. Norton. 


LITTLE back of Newfield there stood an old 



dilapidated mansion. It had once been a beautiful 
home, and cheerful faces were in the now desolate 
rooms ; glad voices sounded through the empty halls, 
and flowers bloomed in the long-neglected garden. But 
this beauty was long passed. The house was a ruin, 
and the grounds were desolate. 

There were two stories in the village concerning this 
mansion, and the cause of ijs desolation. The first was 
the one believed by the strong minded towns-people — the 
old fogies, who had no t^te for sentiment or the beauti- 
ful — to whom a stony field was a stony field and not a 
fine landscape, and a river was an abode for fish, (fish 
being good for food) and a stream to beware of drown- 
ing in. The story which they believed of the old mansion 
was very simple, and certainly a very tame one. They 
said that the house was owned by a man who lived in 
New York, who had once been wealthy, but squandered 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


331 


all, until his sole possessions were this worn-out home- 
stead and almost worn-out wits. At present his wits — 
which does not mean honesty — supported him, but they 
must soon be exhausted, and then, they hoped that he 
would come to Newfield, and learn to work for his 
living, cultivating the long-neglected fields and repair- 
ing the old house. 

The other party, — Romantics we may call them — 
believed that the house was haunted, and that the last 
owner was dead. The legend was, that many years 
ago, a widow with two stalwart sons and three beautiful 
daughters lived there. Through the long summer the 
house was filled with guests, and there was gayety there 
that Newfield never knew before, and would never know 
again. Of course, the daughters had lovers, and the 
sons had ^^faire ladies,” but of all the lovers there was 
none that compared with the proud Englishman who 
gently wooed and won the youngest of the widow’s 
daughters. He was many years older than she, the 
legend ran, hut they loved each other ardently, and if 
the course of true love ever were allowed to run smooth, 
theirs would have been one of the happiest marriages 
since the time of Adam and Eve. But never did a 
course of love run rougher. A rival appeared who 
threw great rocks into this stream of love. And this 
rival was the young girl’s mother, a well-kept, handsome 
woman. The passion which she conceived for the 
proud Englishman was really fearful, and she tried 
every means to win him from the daughter ; but to no 


332 


DAISY BREIfTWELL. 


avail ; the proud Englishman would not be won, and 
obstinately insisted upon being married to the maiden 
very soon. The mother, seeing that fair means were of 
no avail, decided to try foul ; and so one night when the 
daughter slept the sleep of innocence, she arose from 
her sleepless couch, and clutching in her hand the razor 
her husband had been wont to use, glided, like a demon 
of the night, down the dark halls into her daughter’s 
chamber. For a moment she bent over her — only a 
moment, and then she cried, ‘^Farewell, false child, 
farewell and drew the father’s razor over the fair 
white throat with such exactness and such force that 
the young maid never woke from her slumbers. When 
the woman saw the deed she had done, she doubtless 
saw too that she had overstepped the mark, and not 
being able to step back, she went raving crazy. Her 
cries awoke the family, and they appeared en disliaUlle 
upon the scene. Their costumes, however, did not 
hinder their taking an active part in the play. The 
proud Englishman seized a pistol from somewhere — 
such articles being always at hand in high tragedy — and 
shot the maniac mother through the head, putting an 
end to her misery and remorse while he eased his own 
mind. One of the stalwart sons, not understanding 
exactly how things stood, seeing that much shooting 
was going on, seized another pistol from somewhere 
else, and shot the proud Englishman through the heart. 
All this was accompanied by shrill cries and screams, 
and curses not deep but loud. Here the legend comes 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


333 


to an end. Whether the living buried the dead, 
whether the last murderer was brought to trial, or 
whether those remaining fought until their end was 
like the end of the Kilkenny cats, no one was able to 
tell. But every one (of this faith) could bear witness to 
having seen some one who had seen somebody else who 
had heard these shrieks and curses sounding out upon 
the night air ; for the Eomantics maintained that the 
spirits of the dead still dwelt there, and nightly rehearsed 
that little farce. The matter-of-facts turned up their 
practical noses at this. And the Eomantics, to prove 
it, would take long moonlight walks up to the mansion, 
hoping to hear some sound, and would tremble at the 
rustling of the leaves, and fly for dear life at the whip- 
poor-will’s cry. The next day, when the adventure was 
thought over in soul-inspiring sunlight, they grew bold, 
and to show how courageous they could be, when occa- 
sion required it, the next trip into the innocent cellar 
was made without a candle. 

But which ever party, the Matter-of-facts or Eoman- 
tics, was in the right, both were electrified, one day, a 
short time after the departure of Mrs. St. James and 
Miss Abby, by the intelligence that the house was to be 
deserted no longer ; a family was really moving in. Who 
they were, what they were, why they came, whence they 
came, were the four questions that agitated the Kewfield 
mind. The new comers were discussed in every family, 
by every fireside, until the mysterious strangers became 
a household word. At last it was known that their 


334 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


name was Millard, that the family consisted of three per- 
sons — father, mother and son, and that the father and 
son were to keep a drug-store in Dr. Doreann’s old office. 
In a few days more it came out that they came from 
New York city. Later it was known that they were 
qjiite poor, and it was supposed that they had the old 
mansion rent free ; hut whether the spirits who haunted 
it, or the fast New Yorker who owned it, gave this per- 
mission, no one pretended to know. 

It was a hot afternoon about two weeks after the 
advent of the Millards. The three sisters were seated in 
the cool vine-covered door of the rectory, busy with sew- 
ing and books, and watching the few passers-by. 

I wonder that any one goes out when it is so hot,” 
Lestie was saying. ‘‘ Fm so thankful that I don’t have 
to. There are two more coming up the street : an old 
woman and a young man. They look as if they were 
almost dead. How he swaggers, but he’s handsome ! 
They’re coming here, I declare ! Who can they be ? ” 

They’ll hear you,” said Daisy. Good afternoon,” 
she said, as the strangers approached, rising. 

Is your mother at home ? ” inquired the woman 
curtly, while the young man stared at Daisy. 

She is. Will you sit down ?” 

You can say that Mrs. Millard is here,” said that 
lady, seating herself in the chair which Daisy had offered, 
and motioning the young man to another, which he 
took. 

She was an ill-favored woman, a little below medium 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


335 


height. Her face and hands were dark. Her thin grey- 
hair was palled off of the high forehead, and knotted in 
the smallest imaginable knot behind. Her nose was 
very much like common noses, but her mouth was the 
largest, perhaps, that mortal ever saw. She wore a dirty 
black alpaca dress and sacque, and a rusty black bonnet 
sat upon the back of her head, as if it had been pounded 
on from behind. The young man was quite good look- 
ing. Long ago he had decided to his own satisfaction 
that he was a handsome young man, and ever since abided 
by that decision. He was of short stature, and his face 
showed signs of ill health. He had a great desire to shine 
in society, and was much given to getting off old jokes, 
and he dealt in second-hand witticisms. But he was 
good-natured and pleasant, and had unbounded faith in 
his own superiority. 

Yes, I am Mrs. Millard,” the woman continued, 
while Christie went to call Mrs. Brentwell, and this 
is my son, Mark. I brought him down to get acquainted 
with you. WeVe been in the village now over two weeks 
and not a soul has called. -I did expect the minister’s 
wife^ would have been to see me, but it seems I was mis- 
taken. So I told Mark this morning that we’d start 
out and hunt you up.”^ 

It has been so hot,” Daisy said, ^^that my mother 
has not been out for some time.” 

I know it’s hot ; I know that well, but I am accus- 
tomed to havij3^ the minister’s wife call immediately on 
me. I consider it a part of her duty.” 


336 


DAISY BREIS'TWELL. 


It is no more her duty than any one else’s/’ cried 
Lestie ; she’s married to father — not to the church.” 

Hoighty, toighty ! ” cried Mrs. Millard. 

It is my mother’s pleasure to call upon my father’s 
parishioners,” said Daisy, but not her duty. Wd did 
not know, however, that you intended connecting your- 
self with St. Paul’s.” 

Some truth there,” said Mark, who was beginning 
to admire Daisy very much. 

Mrs. Brentwell came out at that moment, and, before 
there was time for a proper introduction, Mrs. Millard 
cried, ‘^I am Mrs. Millard. I suppose you are Mrs. 
Brentwell. This is my son Mark. He’s my only living 
child,” she went on, when they were seated, left out 
of ten. It’s not many that’s seen the trouble that I 
have in my day. I’ve buried nine children, four sis- 
ters, three brothers, and my father and mother. How 
many does that make, Mark ? ” 

Eighteen,” returned Mark, with an alacrity that 
showed he had done that sum in addition before. 

Eighteen times I’ve gone into fresh mourning,” 
Mrs. Millard continued. I feel as if I was a stranger 
in a strange land. And here I’ve been in the village 
over two weeks, and not a soul has come to welcome 
me.” 

We have not seen you at St. Paul’s, and* so we did 
not know that you were church people,” said Mrs. 
Brentwell. It was the only remark she -was able to 
wedge in during the long call, Mrs. Millard took the 


DAISY BKEI^TWELL. 


337 


responsibility of the conversation upon herself, and for 
two hours she sustained it unaided. She gave minute 
accounts of the death scenes of her eighteen lost ones, 
incidents in their lives, and spoke of their marvellous 
talents and wondrous acts. Mark's infant sayings and 
doings followed. Then came full details of their moving. 
She told how each box was packed, how some were 
unpacked and packed over, and how, on the first night 
of their arrival, everything that they wanted immedi- 
ately was packed in the bottom of the biggest box, and 
how they were all unpacked before they found anything 
— and so on, until Mark politely remarked that he felt 
a goneness somewhere in the region of his stomach. 

guess it must be supper time,” he said, ^^and we’d 
better swelter home. The store’ll be opened to- 
morrow,” he said to Daisy, as they arose to go, ‘^and 
it’ll be quite a show. Better come around. I s’pect 
there’ll be a crowd ; Newfielders don’t see such sights 
often. The remarks they’ll make will be good for 

i deaf ears. Bring your little sisters. Better come early.” 

Daisy thanked Jiim coolly. 

^^Do you know where there is a doctor?” Mrs. 
Millard asked suddenly, stopping on the steps. Mrs. 
Brentwell told her of Thurston. 

‘‘A young man ?” 

I ^^Yes.” 

I And tlie only one in town ? I don’t like young 

I doctors, but I suppose we’ll have to employ him. 

‘ Mark’s been ailing this long time.” 

1 ' 15 

i 


338 


DAISY BBEKTWELL. 


ain^t so bad/’ said Mark, uneasily. 

“ You promised to see him for your mother’s sake,” 
Mrs. Millard said, entreatingly. 

Oh, I’ll see him ! Some know-nothing or other,” 
Mark said, as they departed. 

Horatio met them at the gate. 

Who are they ? ” he cried, as he came up to his 
sisters. They told him. I don’t want him to come 
here again,” he said, when they had given a long ac- 
count of the call ; and I hope you won’t encourage it.” 



CHAPTEE XXXI. 


And, oh, thou cruel jealousy 1 
That came between my love and me. 
Thou monster green 
Of demons seen : 

Of demons known and sent 
Our perfect union to prevent. 


—The Authob. 


HE Millards had called at the rectory on Tuesday. 



-L The following Thursday was the day set to start 
on the long talked of excursion to the Island. At the 
eleventh hour Silas had begun to realize that in polite- 
ness Mrs. Scott must be invited to join the party. 
Thurston, too, felt that the neglect to do so would be 
unpardonable. So Daisy, as the proper person, called 
and formally invited her, hoping that she would decline. 
But she quickly expressed her great pleasure, and 
smilingly accepted. 

I certainly did not think that she would go,” Daisy 
said, as they sat on the porch together the evening 
before the excursion. 

^^Well, I should not have accepted such a late 
invitation,” said Lestie. 

am sorry that it was necessary to invite her,” 
said Silas, and I didn’t think of it until the doctor 
insisted upon it.” 

We niust make her feel that she is welcome,” said 


340 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Daisy was silent. ‘^The doctor insisted upon it.” 
Then he wanted her ! Why should he ? No one else 
did. Could he not live one week without seeing her 
every day ? 

There was a cloud the size of a man’s hand in 
the fair sky of Daisy’s happiness. She was angry with 
Thurston because he wanted the widow to accompany 
them ; and she was jealous of her, and would not see 
that there was no way to avoid giving the invitation. 

There is Mark Millard coming up the street,” 
announced Paul. I wanted to go to his opening to- 
day, and mother wouldn’t let me. Everybody was there.” 

Everybody ! ” said Silas. “ I was walking by just as 
he took the shutters down, and all I saw was a yellow 
dog, which appeared, from the way he ordered it around, 
to belong to him.” 

“ He’s coming in,” said Horatio, girls, be very cool.” 

Good evening, ladies,” he said, as he came up. 

You see I come back like a bad penny.” 

Good evening,” Daisy said quietly, while Christie 
introduced him to Silas and Horatio. 

Paul brought a chair from the house, and he seated 
himself in his favorite attitude, his hands under his 
knees and swinging his. short legs. 

“I didn’t see the young ladies at the opening to- • 
day,” he said, 

Silas says there wasn’t any body there,” said Paul. 

^‘WhoeA^er Silas is, he is greatly mistaken. The 
streets were crowded. I thought at one time that I 


DAISY BREN^TWELL. 


341 


should have to telegraph to the city for some police- 
men.” He watched Daisy attentively to see how this 
wonderful announcement impressed her. But she had 
not heard one word he said. She was thinking still of 
the morrow, wondering what the doctor would think, 
and if he would care if she were to remain at home. 
She had half determined to do so. 

There ain’t any telegraph office in Newfield,” Paul 
said in reply to Mark’s wise observation. 

A pleasant evening,” Mark said to Daisy ; he was 
greatly annoyed by that small hoy’s remarks. She did 
not heed. 

Very pleasant,” Horatio said stiffly. 

What would we do if we were to have a thunder- 
storm to-morrow ? ” said Herbert, looking at the sky. 

I wouldn’t be afraid,” said Lestie boldly. 

‘^Mrs. Scott would be,” said Silas. ^^She always 
goes into the doctor’s office when it thunders ; she thinks 
that is the safest side of the house, and he has about all 
he can do to — ” 

Speaking of the doctor,” interrupted Mark, re- 
minds me. that I called on him this morning. Can’t 
Hewfield have a better physician than he is ? I 
would’nt trust* my Zip in his hands. No, sir, I 
wouldn’t. I don’t like the fellow.” 

He’s a great favorite in Newfield,” said Christie. 

He’s coming in the gate now.” 

Ah, he visits here ! I have no desire to meet him 
socially.” Neither had Thurston any desire to meet 


342 


DAISY BEENTT^ELL. 


Mark socially. Their conversation that morning had 
not left pleasant impressions on either side. The doctor 
sat down by Daisy, tired and silent. Horatio was dis- 
pleased that Mark was there, and tried to make him feel 
his displeasure by maintaining a dignified silence ; Daisy 
would not talk ; Christie saw there was a cloud over the 
party, and was troubled ; Silas never did talk when 
there was any one else to say any thing ; Lestie with 
Paul and Herbert formed a separate group, and talked 
about the morrow and its pleasures among themselves. 

So Mark took the conversation upon himself, and sus- 
tained it as well as his mother could have done. 

The next day dawned fair and bright. They sailed 
down the river in a yacht that Silas had procured for the 
occasion, and reached his father’s house late in the after- 
noon. They were not to go to the island until the fol- 
lowing morning ; for the ladies were tired, and there 
was a gi-eat deal to be done before they could be fairly 
domiciled. Mr. Thorpe and his two sons met them at 
the boat-landing, and, scarcely waiting for Silas’s formal 
introductions, shook every one heartily by the hand. 
Mrs. Thoi’pe was waiting at the door to receive them, and 
greeted them as if she had known and loved them from 
their childhood. There was a little time for resting and 
talking, which every one did with all their might, and ♦ 
then they were called into the kitchen, where the large 
well filled supper table was spread. 

When this meal was over. Farmer Thorpe proposed a 
visit to the famously large old elm by the river side, the 


DAISY BKEl^TWELL. 


343 


great family pride. It was some distance from the house, 
and Mrs. Scott was just about to decline going, knowing 
that Paul would likely be her escort, when Daisy, plead- 
ing her fatigue, begged to be excused. Then the widow 
knew that the doctor would fall to her share, and she 
smilingly put on her bonnet. Thurston was disappointed. 
There was little pleasure for him where Daisy was not, 
but he said nothing ; for he was too unselfish to ask her 
to go when he knew she needed rest. And she, heeding 
his silence, thought it indifference, and wondered that 
he did not remain with her. 

Mrs. Thorpe conducted her to the room which she 
was to share with Mrs. Scott that night, and went down 
again to join the party. Daisy sat down by the window 
to watch them as they departed. Horatio escorted Mrs. 
Thorpe. Lestie, in one of her most entertaining moods, 
bewildered and delighted Mr. Martin Thorpe as they 
walked together. Herbert and Paul walked with any 
one or anywhere as occasion required or it suited their 
pleasure. Mr. Thorpe and his second son plodded on 
^ together, talking in a dull way of their farm-work: 
what' they had done last week, what they would do next, 
how they were ahead of farmer A. and behind farmer 
‘B. They spoke of the health of the cattle, and calcu- 
lated the probable loss or gain if the cow with a crumpled 
horn were sold to farmer C. for the price he offered : 
"*** they waxed eloquent (^ontemplating the laying hens, and 
reasoned well on the growth of the pullets. Silas aiid 
Christie walked slowly behind these two, not talking of 


344 


DAISY BKEXTWELL. 


farms, of earth or heaven, but of their own two hearts. 
But they did not bring up the rear. Tar behind them 
all were the doctor and Mrs. Scott : she was so tired, 
she had said, that if she went at all she must walk very 
slowly. Thurston would have been glad if she had 
remained at home, but that was not for*him to say ; his 
it was only to creep along bearing the burden of her 
fragile but heavy form. 

Daisy’s heart ached when she saw them. She could 
not know his thoughts : she only saw his actions, and 
she left the window hastily so that she should not see. 
She threw herself on the bed, and buried her face in 
the pillow, but she could not shut the vision from her 
sight. She thought of how tired and sleepy she had 
been when she came up stairs, and wondered if she 
would ever be sleepy again, or ever again close her eyes 
in slumber : she knew she would not ; she would die, 
she knew that, and she hoped her death would be that 
night ; that when Thurston came back he would find 
her dead. How glad he would be ! for then ho could 
marry the widow. She even imagined the gi’ar.d wed- 
ding they would have, and the bride’s gorgeous opparel, 
but then everything grew indistinct before her — and sud- 
denly some one drew her face from the pillow, and 
kissed her. She opened her eyes. Thurston was bend- 
ing over her. 

Why, how came you here ? ” she asked. 

I found when we reached the great elm, that you 
had been left entirely alone, and so I came back. ” 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


345 


“You could not have been there and back already ; 
it was only a moment ago that you went.” 

“ A moment ago ! It was an half an hour. See ! it 
is growing dark. You have been asleep. Are you 
rested ? ” 

“Very much.” Was it the short nap that had 
brought back her strength, or was it the presence and 
certain love of that strong man ? She did not know ; 
but she felt willing to live now, and was rather glad, 
upon the^ whole, that she had been locked in the 
embrace of sleep, and not of sleep’s twin brother, when 
Thurston returned. 

The Island cottage was a small two story frame 
building. Mr. Thorpe had taken over what furniture 
they would need, and fresh provisions were sent over 
daily. Daisy was installed as cook, and Christie was 
her assistant. The first day the burden of the work fell 
upon them ; for Mrs. Scott could not or would not, and 
Lestie seeing that those who will, may, followed in her 
idle footsteps. But the next day there was a complete 
revolution : the gentlemen joined the workers. Horatio 
set the table — no matter if it did look as if he had stood 
in the closet door and thrown the dishes on. Herbert 
washed the dishes, and Silas swept the floor. The 
doctor made the fires and helped Daisy cook. And 
Paul, entering into the spirit of it, cut the wood and 
brought it in. And so for the remainder of their stay 
Daisy and Christie were relieved of the manifold duties 
of housekeeping, and housework. 

IS* 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


“ Fare thee well 1 and if forever, 

Still forever, /are thee well; 

Even though unforgiving, never 1 1 

’Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.” vj 

—Byron. M 

OOD morning, folks. I was just going by, and | 

I thought I’d drop in. My stars ! Daisy, Kow | 

awful sick you look. I guess your visit didn’t do you so ' ^ 
much good after all. When did you get home ? ” 

Night before last,” said Daisy, going on with her | 
sewing. 1 

Night before last!” returned Martha. You | 
stayed an awful while. Everybody was wondering if ^ i 
you meant to stay all summer. Mr. Pepper says you M 
don’t think much about trouble to go off enjoying your- 
self like that. 0 girls, it just kills me to hear that man Cj 
talk ! He’s got a new notion now. What do you think W 
it is ? 0 you’ll never guess ! I ’most died when I heard Iv 
it. Why he says that when folks die that instead of | J 
going to heaven or the other place, they come back to H 
this earth in the form of an animal. Did you ever hear , ■ : 
the like ? And he» says that whenever a horse or a cat < . 
or anything is born, we may know that somebody has 
just died, and that that is the reason that animals i 
have so many young during epidemics.” \ 


DAISY BKEiq'TWELL. 


347 


‘‘ I donH belieye it,” said Lestie. 

Oh, neither do I ! but I just tell you because 'ma 
says it’s alwa’s best to know everything. But that isn’t 
the funniest part. You know he’s alwa’s complaining.” 

‘‘ He doesn’t look well,” said Christie. I really 
am sorry for him: he appears so ill.” 

‘"Oh my stars, so am I ! And, you know, he’s 
afraid he’s going to die, and that he’ll turn into a cat, 
and that his wife will get him : she’s talking about get- 
ting a kitten and bringing it up to suit her. So he’s just 
worried sick for fear she’ll make up her mind to get it about 
the time he dies. I thought I should die when he told it.” 

“Surely his wife might make him happier,” said 
Daisy, thinking of one whom she would make happy. 

“I suppose you haven’t heard the news,” Martha 
went on. 

“We haven’t heard anything,” said Lestie, eagerly. 

“Laury Van Pike’s going to be married. ” 

“We knew that,” Lestie returned; “father is to 
marry them.” 

“ Oh, is he ? Well, I heard that the wedding was 
to be awful plain, and that they’re going off on an 
awful long weddin ’ touer. I suppose the fee’ll be real 
big. Now, Lestie, if I was you, I’d just ask my ’pa for 
it to get a lace shawl : they’re all the style in Paris. 
Jane Wade says so. Laury’s got three, and they are 
perfectly elegant. I’m just dying for one. I was telling 
Vi friend of mine the other day that I thought every man 
ought to give an awful big fee, when they were married. 


348 


DAISY BEEIfTWELL, 


and they didn’t think so. Don’t you think that Andrew 
Moffatt is an awful torment ? The more I snub him, 
the more he comes round. It does men good to snub ’em. 
Don’t you know it does, Daisy ? You never snubbed 
the doctor half enough ; he’s awful independent. But 
then I should think you’d be afraid of him ; he’s so 
awful grand and dignified, aint you ? ” 

Not a bit,” Daisy laughed, wondering if it were 
wrong to think that her perfect love had cast out all 
fear — when he was only human. 

‘‘ I was telling Moffat the other day,” Martha rattled 
on, (so that he needn’t put on so many airs, you know,) 
that I could ’ave had the doctor if I’d just winked my 
eye, but that I thought I’d leave him for you. ‘ Oh,’ 
says he, ‘he didn’t mean anything; he’s only a fiirt.’ 
‘Now, Andrew,’ says I, ‘you needn’t be talking that 
way o’ your betters. Dr. 3t. James ain’t half the fiirt 
you be.’ He’s an awful fellow, you know ! ‘ Well,’ says 

he, (don’t you never breathe a word) — ‘ Well,’ says he, 
‘ anybody with half an eye can see that I ain’t flirting 
with you, (as though I’d flirt with him,) and the town’s 
talking about the doctor’s flirting with Mrs. Scott, when 
he’s engaged to Daisy Brentwell.’” 

“ I don’t believe it,” cried Lestie. 

“ Law, neither do I ! but folks say it, that’s all. The 
doctor’s alwa’s talking to girls, you know, and they call 
it flirting. Why, he squeezes my hand aivfully when he 
shakes hands ; but don’t let on I told you ; I don’t want 
him to know I noticed it.” , 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


349 


Lestie and Christie said they would not, but Daisy’s 
lips did not unclose. 

I’m awful tired o’ men any how ; ain’t you, Daisy ? 
And there’s Andrew Motfatt just dying to keep steady 
company with me. Well, I must be going. I’ve been 
out all the morning. I went up to see Mis’ Scott. She 
ain’t never returned ma’s call, and I thought may be she 
was affronted because I hadn’t been to see her, but she 
was out riding with the doctor, and I hadn’t time to 
wait, so I didn’t see her after all. He’s going to take 
her to a concert in Fairhope this evening. If I was you, 
Daisy, I wouldn’t let my beau take other folks off to 
concerts like he does. I must go. Come see me, all. 
Good morning.” 

Lestie accompanied her to the door where she lin- 
gered to repeat another bit of gossip. Christie went up 
to Daisy. “Dear sister,” she.said, looking into her pale 
face, “ you must not mind Martha’s gossip. You know 
she doesn’t get things just right.” 

The sewing fell from Daisy’s hand. “I know, 
Christie. I think I will go up stairs now ; my head- 
aches. If Thurston comes — ” 

“ I will call you.” 

“Ho, no, I cannot see him.” 

“Daisy, listen to me. If the doctor calls you must 
see him, and don’t pain him by repeating this gossip. 
Be kind and loving as you always are. There is no truth 
in these reports, and let them say what they will ; you 
will soon be his wife.” 


350 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Daisy folded away her sewing. ‘^But there was the 
ride this morning,” she said, hesitatingly. 

Mrs. Scott will send any excuse before she will see 
any one whom she doesn’t want to see.” 

Tell Lestie not to tell father or any of the 
family.” 

I will if you don’t want them to know. And you 
will see Thurston ? ” 

Yes, yes. Oh, Christie, if Mrs. Scott — ” she ran 
out of the room without finishing the sentence. Christie 
sat quietly down again to her sewing, fearing that more 
wa& true than she wanted Daisy to believe. 

Nothing delighted Lestie more than keeping a secret. 
So she readily promised to say nothing of Martha’s 
communication. 

It was late* in the afternoon when Thurston called. 
Daisy was waiting alone in the parlor, and she greeted 
him lovingly when he entered. You are pale, my dar- 
ling,” were his first words. “ I am afraid the island air 
has not done you the good we thought it would.” 

I have had the headache,” she said, laying that 
weary head upon his shoulder. 

In two months we will be married, and then that 
southern trip will make you well. No more pale cheeks 
and weary sad eyes.” 

Two months ! ” she repeated, as she clung to 
him, Oh, Thurston, is that a long way off ? So 
much may happen between.” 

‘‘It is a long way off, but nothing shall happen 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


351 


between to part us. If Dr. Lewis, who is to take my 
place when I am away, could come next week, we would 
be married then.” 

‘‘Where is he now ? ” 

“ In Europe. He will return the first of September, 
and be in Hewfield on the tenth.” 

“Laura Van Pike gives a small party this evening,” 
Daisy said, after long, happy plans for the future, “ and 
she sent me an invitation this afternoon to attend. Can 
you go ? ” 

“ This evening ? I am afraid not.” 

“ Afraid not ! ” she repeated, remembering for the 
first time since he came, what Martha had said. 
“Why?” 

“ I have an engagement which I cannot break. I 
am very sorry ; for it would give me a great deal of 
pleasure to accompany you. You will not go alone : 
Horatio will go.” 

“ Of course ; but I want you to be there,” she in- 
sisted. 

“I must be in Fairhope to-night.” 

“In Fairhope, Thurston !” she repeated, while her 
cheeks flushed scarlet. 

“You certainly will not mind it,” he said anxiously, 
seeing the change that came over her. 

“I do mind,” turning away. ' 

“ Why, I have sometimes thought that Horatio is as 
dear to you as I am, and that his escort — ” 

His quiet tone angered her, and she interrupted him. 


352 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


“I always think and always know, Dr. St. James,” she 
cried, that Horatio is a great deal dearer to me than 
you are, and I prefer his escort at all times.” 

If he were going to take Mrs. Scott to the concert 
in Fairhope, he would know that she did not care. 

Daisy ! Daisy!” he said, taking her hand. She 
snatched it from him and rose excitedly from her seat. 

‘‘lam very sorry that I troubled you — ” 

“ Daisy, what does this mean ? I am surprised, 
darling. Sit down again.” 

“ I will not sit down,” as his quietness made her 
more angry. “ You will be over being surprised some 
day. Nothing surprises me now.” 

Thurston had never seen her angry before, and he 
did not know the right way to calm it. “ What does 
this mean ? ” he said again, in an almost stern voice, 
standing beside her. 

“It means that I did not want you to go to Fair- 
hope to-night, and that it was very presumptuous in me 
to have any feelings on the subject.” 

“It is not presumptuous in you at all,” he answered. 
“If it were possible, I would break the engagement and 
go with you, but it isn’t. There is no need of your 
anger. Allow me to explain.” 

“ I know all about it. I will not hear another 
word on the subject. I knew it would come to this,” 
she cried, “I knew it long ago, but I have borne 
from you treatment that no one else would have borne 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


353 


Daisy,” he said, will you hear me ? ” 

“iVb, I will not. Take this ; ” drawing tlie ring from 
her finger, and let this farce of an engagement end 
forever.” 

He took the ring, and looked on her — more in sur- 
prise than grief just then. He had not thought she 
would go this far : but a word would surely bring her 
back. 

“Daisy,” he said, clasping her in his arms. 

“ Let me go.” 

“I will not let you go, until you are over being 
angry.” 

“lam not angry now. Let me go,” struggling. 

“ Then you love me yet.” 

never loved you,” determinedly. “Let me go.” 

His arms fell from her. “You may go,” he said, 
in the same quiet tone he had used through it all. She 
turned and looked on him then for a moment, and 
realized, as she had not before, what she had done. 
Then she fled from the room. 

Thurston stood looking after her, like one whose 
brightest hopes in life had gone, and then went stagger- 
ing from the house. 

At the gate he met Horatio, but Avas going on with- 
out speaking, when he arrested him. 

“Doctor,” he said, laying his hand on his arm, 
“ what is the matter ? ” 

“ I don’t know,” he said. “Daisy may.” 

“ May know ! what ? ” 


354 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Why she broke it.” He was going on, but Horatio 
detained him again. 

It is not possible that the engagement is broken. 
Tell me about it.” 

‘‘It is very little that I can tell you. She wanted 
me to go to Mr. Yan Pike’s this evening, but I could 
not because I must go to Fairhope to hold a consultation 
with Hr. Thome, and when I said that she grew very 
— Horatio, I think she was angry.” He spoke ten- 
derly of her. 

“ I’ve no doubt of it,” was the brother’s less tender 
reply. “ And she broke it off ? ” 

“ Yes. That is all I know. Good-bye.” And he 
walked quickly down the street. Horatio went into the 
house. He would find out from Daisy all the trouble, 
and set things straight in a very little time, he thought. 
She was not in the sitting-room, and no one had seen 
her since the doctor had been there, or knew what had 
occurred. He found her in her room, lying on the bed 
with her face buried in the pillow. “ Daisy !” he cried. 

She made no answer. 

“ Daisy,” he called again. “ You are not asleep, I 
know. Answer me.” She lay motionless. 

“ Daisy, Daisy,” laying his hand on her shoulder. 
“ Are you dead.” He shook her gently. 

“ Go away,” she said in a muffled voice. 

“I want to talk to you.” 

“ I don’t want to talk to you. Go away.” 

“ Daisy, do you know you are very unwise ?” 


DAISY BREJITWELL. 


355 


Horatio/’ turning her face to him, will you go ? ” 
When I please, I will,” angrily. I want to talk 
to you. The doctor — ” 

I won’t hear a word,” stopping her ears. Go, go.” 
‘‘I won’t go,” he called. will talk. You are to 
blame.” He spoke so loud that she heard him notwith- 
standing the closed ears, and she opened them again. 
Will you go ?” 

^^Why don’t you answer me ?” 

I do answer you. Go on.” 

‘‘ What am I to tell father ? ” 

“What you please,” wondering what he knew, and 
how he knew it. 

“Daisy will you answer one question ?” 

“Will you go then ? ” 

“Yes : is this engagement broken forever ?’^ 

“Yes.” 

“ Why did you break it ? ” 

I’ve answered one question. You must go." 

“ I want to talk to you about it.” 

“ I will not hear a word,” excitedly. 

“ Never ? ” 

“ Never, wetter. Go.” 

He stood for a moment, and then went quietly out of 
the room. He could do nothing at present, he knew. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


I have lost all thought or care 
Of what my future life may be, 

Or what my present is, or where 
I tread, what scenes my eyes may see ; 

I only know that thou and I 
' Have parted for eternity. 

—The Authob. 

I N’ a little while it was known in Newfield that Dr. 

St. Janies and Daisy Brentwell were not to be mar- 
ried in September, and later it came out they were never 
to he married. Mrs. Scott heard it and rejoiced ; and 
she watched the doctor closely, hoping to discover signs 
of his joy for his recovered liberty. But all in vain ; 
what he felt he kept from the world and pursued the 
same quiet exterior. That he secretly did rejoice, she 
soon decided to her satisfaction. Mrs. Barker was of 
the same opinion, and to confirm it, she repeated that 
Mrs. Pepper had told her that Mr. Pepper had said that 
the men down at Green’s store had said that the doctor 
looked and acted ten years younger, and that he was 
getting to be like his old self again — what old self was 
not known. From the day of hearing this the beautiful 
widow stood in readiness to have him declare his love for 
her. And she lay awake several nights to decide what 
length of time she would let elapse between the proposal 
and the acceptance. But the days went on, and no 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


357 


proposal came, and then she decided that for each 
day he delayed she would delay one day in giving her 
answer. 

Meantime he went quietly on with his work and sor- 
row, and made no sign. At first, he had hoped that 
Horatio would find out from Daisy why she was angry 
with him, and bring about a reconciliation between 
them, but time passed, and she would say nothing, and 
then he gave up hope for the present j he would wait, 
wait, but he knew not for what. 

There was one other in Newfield who rejoiced with 
Mrs. Scott that this engagement was broken, and that 
was Mark Millard. He had made up his mind the 
first time that he saw Daisy that she would make him a 
good wife. The second time he saw her he decided that 
she should be his wife, and great was his chagrin when 
he heard that she was engaged to Thurston. But when 
he had seen them together once, he was well satisfied 
that there was no love on her side, and that when he 
(Mark) presented himself to her as an admirer, she 
would dismiss the doctor and bestow her unfettered 
heart upon him. So when he heard that the engage- 
ment was broken, he knew — though no one else did — 
that she had broken it for his sake. Now Mark was not 
usually of a kind and considerate disposition, but he 
decided kindly this time not to keep her long in sus- 
pense, but let the wooing begin immediately, and let 
that wooing be short. He knew that Horatio was no 
friend to him and that the codrtship could not very well 


358 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


go on at the rectory. So his mother must be enlisted 
on his side, and she must bring Daisy to the mansion. 

“ If you’re so anxious about my concerns, just do a 
little more for me,” he said to her, as he ate his dinner 
one day, by the way of a beginning. 

Dear Mark, what don’t I do for you ? Your 
father tells me every day that I am spoiling you.” 

Never mind my father ! Give me some pear 
sauce : it’s mighty good.” 

Psaved it all for you,” giving him the dish, f ^ Your 
father didn’t have a bit.” 

That’s all right. What can he expect when he 
trots off and gets his dinner first and leaves me in the 
store to starve. I’ve got something to settle with you, 
old lady.” 

What is it, dear boy ? ” 

It’s Daisy Brentwell. I’m a man of honor, and if 
it wasn’t all over with the doctor and her I shouldn’t 
say a word. I’d let things take their own course, 
although any one can see with half an eye that it would 
be a death-blow to her happiness to marry him. Now, 
ril make her a husband what is a husband.” 

That’s because your mother brought you up in the 
way you should go,” she said, fondly. 

Well, I’m up — no matter how I got here. But I 
wouldn’t ’ave minded if you’d brought me up an inch or 
so higher. As I was saying, I’ve got my eye on Daisy, 
and she’s only waiting for the asking. But, you see, 
the courting can’t go on at the rectory ; because I don’t 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


359 


like Horatio and he knows it. He’d set the folks 
against me in no time. So I’ve cooked np a plan, and 
you’ve only got to do as I tell you, and that snip won’t 
be nowhere.” 

What is it ? ” 

It’s this,” leaning his elbow on the table, and lay- 
ing the forefinger of his right hand in fche palm of the 
left — ^^it’s this. You go to the rectory this afternoon, 
and get Daisy. She’ll be glad enough to come. Of 
course it will be my business to see her home to-night.” 

What’ll her brother say ? ” 

He won’t say. He’s gone to Eairhope with Dr. St. 
James, and won’t be back till night.” 

Don’t you want some more cake ? ” 

^‘Ho — yes — no. I guess not. I’m off now. She’ll 
be here when I get back ? ” 

^^I’ll do my best,” said the fond mother, and Mark 
swaggered out. 

In less than an hour after Mrs. Millard, in the rusty 
alpaca and pounded bonnet, was on her way to the 
rectory. She was heated and tired when she reached 
there. Mrs. Brentwell received her in the large cool 
sitting-room. The girls were up stairs, so Mrs. Millard 
delivered her invitation for Daisy to the mother, who, 
of course, declined it ; the day was too hot, and Daisy 
was not well. Then Mrs. Millard insisted upon seeing 
Daisy, that she might have her choice in the matter. 
So Daisy was called, and to her mother’s surprise, her 
choice was to go. She was tired of staying at home. 


360 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


slie said, in a reckless way ; she had not been out that 
week. She made a hasty toilet, and half an hour 
later, she was seated in the long dull sitting-room of 
the mansion, wondering why she had come, and almost 
too tired to listen to Mrs. Millard’s weary talk, and 
thankful she didn’t have to make reply. 

Mr. Millard came in about five o’clock, very hot, 
very hungry and not very well pleased at the sight of 
the little visitor. He was a short man with a long nose, 
a limp in his walk, and a bald spot on the top of his 
head which he tried to cover with long hairs from 
behind. He wore a dirty suit of thick grey. He was 
nervous and irritable, and the world was opposed to 
him and to his having his rights — that he knew. Every 
one wronged him. His wife had wronged him by 
marrying him, his children had wronged him by being 
born and then by dying. Mark wronged him every 
hour. Mrs. Millard wronged him every meal he ate ; 
she put too much sugar in his coffee or not enough ; 
she made the tea too strong or too weak ; the beef was 
too tough or too tender ; the bread was too fresh or too 
dry. And that was the way everything went ; nothing, 
nobody treated him as he deserved. But his worst foe, 
his most bitter enemy, was the clerk of the weather. 
When Mr. Millard wanted it to rain — which he always 
did on Mrs. Millard’s washing days — it was sure to be 
clear and sunshiny. If he wanted it pleasant, it rained. 
It was always either too hot or too cold, too wet or too 
dry. If he had known in what part of the world the 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


361 


weather clerk lived, he would have gone and had it out 
with him, but he did not know, and never met any one 
who did know, so he had to endure it — which he did 
not do in silence. 

Daisy wronged him greatly by being there that day. 
The parson’s daughter ! Humph ! S’pose she’d come 
to talk Scripture to him ! He’d show her ! And he 
began immediately to talk of the Duke of Wellington, 
and defiantly gave her his ideas of him and of his 
abilities to command, which ideas Daisy received in 
silence. Wellington had never crossed her path; he did 
very well at the battle of Waterloo, but he was nothing 
in comparison to Washington ! But she did not dare 
tell Mr. Millard that this was her opinion. So she was 
silent, and her silence offended him. Mrs. Millard, 
who had been busy preparing supper, at length an- 
nounced that it was ready, and the three seated them- 
selves at the little square table which rested against the 
wall. Mark always remained in the store when his 
father came to his meals. 

Daisy’s appetite was never of the best, and to-night 
she could not force herself to take one mouthful of the 
poorly cooked food, or to drink the weak beverage Mrs. 
Millard called tea. She was wondering yet what en- 
chantment brought her there, and what enchantment 
made her remain. What would Horatio say when he 
came back from JPairhope ? How displeased he would 
be ! Mrs. Millard, seeing that she ate nothing, observed 
in a delicate way that she might be waiting to eat with 
16 


362 


DAISY BKEHTWELL. 


Mark. Daisy blushed at this sudden accusation, and 
hastened to say that she had no appetite, that she never 
had, she never ate. The blushing was a great delight 
to the old dame, who regarded it as a betrayal from 
Daisy of great love for Mark. 

He’ll be here soon,” she added, smiling all over her 
great mouth. This remark made Daisy blush so much 
more that her cheeks seemed to swell to twice their 
natural size. 

Is Daisy all the name you’ve got ? ” Mr. Millard 
asked, not to relieve her embarrassment, however; for 
with his eyes intent upon his plate, he saw nothing of 
it, but to gratify his curiosity. 

‘^My right name is Deborah,” she said, remember- 
ing, with an aching heart, who had taught her to love 
that name. 

‘‘ Deborah ! ” he repeated. Well that’s what I call 
something like a name. There ain’t no sense to Daisy.” 

And I’ll say Deborah after this,” said Mrs. Millard. 

Oh, don’t,” burst from Daisy’s lips. ‘^I don’t — I 
don’t like it — I’m never called by that name.” 

‘^Well, you’ll like it if I say it,” persisted Mrs. 
Millard. 

Oh, no ! I cannot like it.” 

Why not ?” cried Mr. Millard. 

Because,” faintly. 

That ain’t no reason at all,” he growled. 

‘"Come, Deborah,” Mrs. Millard said, “ you’ll like it 
if I say it, I know.” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


363 


I never consider myself addressed when I hear the 
name,’’ Daisy said, with more determination than polite- 
ness. No one had called her by it but Thurston, and 
no one ever should. Mr. Millard, greatly wronged, and 
highly indignant at what he considered obstinacy, jerked 
his chair away from the table, and left the house with- 
out another word. 

“ I’ll put on the tea to keep hot,” Mrs. Millard said, 
when he had gone, “ and when Mark comes you and I 
will have something more.” 

Thank you, I have finished my supper,” Daisy 
said, as she left the table, and sat down by the window. 

You’ll want some fruit cake, when I bring it out. 
Mark’s very fond of it. Can you bake ? ” 

A little.” 

I’m" glad o’ that,” Mrs. Millard went on, bringing 
out the cake, and beginning to cut it. There was a 
girl in New York who took a great shine to Mark, but 
\ she couldn’t bake fruit cake, and I had to teach her. 
''But it didn’t do no good : he wouldn’t have married her 
if she had been made of fruitcake.” And from that, 
until Mark made his appearance, she rehearsed tales of 
poor girls who had been in love with Mark — all to no 
purpose. 

Mark knew from his father that Daisy was there — 
that his mother had been successful, so he had walked 
very fast up the dusty road, and was very hot and 
breathless when he entered. He seated himself near 
Daisy, and fanned himself with a huge palm leaf, while 


364 


DAISY BREiqrWELL. 


his face wore an expression of the greatest contentment. 
The plan was working splendidly, he thought. Here 
was Daisy just ready to fall into his arms, which he 
would allow her to do pretty soon. Meantime he talked. 

You ought to ’ve been in our store to day,” he 
said. had a tough customer there, I can tell you. 
The biggest liar in town — could lie the handle off o’ that 
teapot. I was soilin’ him some green paint, and he says 
that ’tain’t the genuine article. ' Do you think that I 
lie ?’ says I. ‘I Icnow you do,’ says he. With that I 
fired up. I’m a dreadful peaceful disposition, but when 
I’m fired, I’m fired. [ was just going to hi’st him out 
o’ the store, when father walks in, and I took my hat 
and left for parts unknown.” 

Who was the man ? ” asked Mrs. Millard, greatly 
interested. 

‘‘ Lute — John Lute. Is that supper about ready ? ” 

‘^It’s ready. Come sit up. Come, Deborah.” 

Mrs. Millard, I beg that you will not address me 
by that name,” Daisy said, quietly. 

What’s the row ?” queried Mark, as he seated him- 
self at the table. Mrs. Millard explained, and Daisy 
had the satisfaction of hearing him say that ^‘Deborah” 
was not worth two cents : give him the romantic. This 
decided Mrs. Millard in favor of ‘‘Daisy,” to that 
young lady’s great relief. 

There was so much of the old house to be shown, so 
much to be said, that had not already been shown and 
said, that it was nine o’clock before they would allow 


DAISY BREiq-TWELL. 


365 


her to go. Mark started out to escort her home, and of 
course she must take his arm. Her little hand barely 
touched the linen sleeve of his light summer coat, but 
he drew it through with the tenderness and authority of 
a lover, which Daisy in her heart, greatly resented. 

‘‘ hTow’s my time,” he said to himself ; now’s my 
time. I’ve only to say the word, and she’s mine.” 

But the word was not spoken : a most unlooked-for 
and annoying interruption occurred. Horatio came up 
to them at that moment. What a bound of joy Daisy’s 
heart gave when she saw him approaching ! There was 
no polite salutation wasted between the young men : 
Horatio was angry that Daisy was with Mark, and Mark 
was angry that Horatio had come. Daisy drew her hand 
from Mark’s arm, and walked by Horatio, which was a 
specimen of poor taste that Mark could not account for. 

Come at the wrong time,” he said to the brother, 
with a half laugh, yet terribly in earnest. 

“ I came for my sister,” Horatio said, sharply. 

Then the three walked on in silence until they 
reached the little drug store. 

Come in,” Mark said. 

'^Ho, thank you,” Horatio said. 

“ I’ll call round soon,” he said as they left him. 

He stood looking after them, wondering why he had 
not asserted his rights, and gone on home with Daisy, 
instead of allowing her brother to triumph over him. 
"'Better luck next time,” he said to himself. "The 
course of true love don’t never run over smooth. She’s 


366 


DAISY BKEISTTWELL. 


on my side, and any one could see that his coming was 
a dej,th-hlow to her hopes.” 

Daisy,” Horatio said as they walked quietly on, 
‘^How came you to go there ?” 

don’t know,” beginning to cry. 

don’t believe you do. There ! don’t cry.” 

am not crying,” turning her face away. 

You are. I don’t mean to he cross, little sister, 
hut I never was. so much vexed in my life as when I got 
home and found that you’d gone up to Millard’s. I 
came right after you. I want you to promise me, Daisy, 
you won’t ever go again. ” 

They were at the rectory gate. 

I promise,” she said. 

And remember the promise when I am in Philadel- 
phia,” he said, as he kissed her. 


CHAPTER XXXIV, 


'^Bap. Is he come ? 

Bion, Why, no sir. 

Bap. When will he he here ? ” 


—Taming op thb Shbbw. 


AURA YAU PIKE’S wedding was to be strictly 



private, and all Newlield was disappointed. Every 
one had expected an invitation to attend, and half the 
rising generation had been on their good behavior for a 
week past, anticipating a reward in the bits of pastry 
fond mothers would smuggle home for them. Mr. 
Green had sold more yards of ribbon and coarse white 
Swiss than had been sold in months hef ore. And he had 
really sent to town for three old-ladies’ caps, already 
made, and displayed them in his window to the great 
admiration of the old ladies of the village, who pru- 
.dently decided to wait until the invitation came before 
they made the purchase. Ko invitations came ; the caps 
were a dead loss on Mr. Green’s hands ; the rising gen- 
eration entered into an open rebellion ; the coarse white 
Swiss and bright ribbons were laid tearfully away by the 
fair purchasers. 

Mr. Brent well was to perform the ceremony, and 
Mrs. Brentwell, as a matter of course, had been invited 
to accompany him. Her best dress, a stiff black silk. 


368 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


bought in the days of auld-lang-syne, was brought out 
in honor of the great occasion. Her daughters dressed 
her, and arranged her hair in the latest Newfield fashion 
— Hewfield, having an independent nature, had fashions 
of its own — while she declared at intervals of five 
minutes, that she did wish that one of the girls could go 
in her place, which wish Lestie heartily echoed, provid- 
ing that she should be the one to go. 

At length she was ready. She was turned round 
and round, and looked at for the last time, and heard 
to say for the fiftieth time that she was sorry she was the 
one to go. The Van Pikes had sent their carriage for 
them ; and the children stood at the door, and watched 
them get in and drive away as if they were starting out 
on a long journey. 

When they were fairly gone, and the last cloud of 
dust had disappeared, Horatio went down to the doctor’s 
office. Herbert and the two younger girls undertook 
the task of guarding Paul, which was not easy this 
afternoon. Daisy went to her own room, where she 
had a sad duty to perform. Thurston had made her a 
great many presents, and written her a few letters, du- 
ring their engagement, and these must be packed this 
afternoon, to send to him. She had shrunk from doing 
it before ; for it seemed as though it would be breaking 
the last cord that had bound them. It could all have 
been done in less than an hour, but she lingered sadly 
over it, and the afternoon was nearly gone when she 
tied the last parcel, and sat down on the edge of the 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


3G9 


bed witb them lying around her, trying . to think how 
she would live now. She had not solved the difficult 
problem, when Horatio burst into the room. 

“ Is Paul here ? ” he cried. 

Paul ! no. He’s down stairs.” 

^^Ho, he isn’t.” 

The girls had charge of him.” 

They can’t find him anywhere.” 

Then he’s run off,” she cried, forgetting the prob- 
lem. 

Of course he has. I wish you had looked after 
him, instead of all this nonsense — ” 

‘^Why, Horatio, it had to be done.” 

It didn’t. Haven’t you seen anything of him ? ” 

Not since I came up stairs, when you went away. 

t 

I thought Herbert and the girls were enough to take 
care of him.” 

Well, they weren’t, it seems ; for he’s gone — to 
that den, I suppose. I tell you, Daisy, something must 
be done with that boy.” He closed the door and leaned 
against it. He’ll never be any better while he’s in 
Newfield.” 

I know it, but where can he go ? ” 

I have an idea, and if father is willing, we’ll carry 
it out — ” 

Well, what is it ?” said Daisy, anxiously. 

'‘It is to take him to Philadelphia with me in the 
fall. The doctor says there are excellent public schools 
there.” 


16 * 


370 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


^^Yes, but Mrs. — but, you know, he couldn’t live 
with you,” said Daisy, hesitatingly, remembering where 
Horatio was to live. “His board would have to be 
paid somewhere.” 

“I know that, and I know too that if he stays in 
the village, he will be ruined, body and soul, and that 
father had better pay a hundred dollars a week board 
than allow that.” 

“I know.” 

“But this is my point : what it would cost to keep 
Paul and me at home, would pay his board in some 
private family.” 

“ Perhaps it would,” doubtfully. 

“You know I shall have nothing to pay. Mrs. St. 
James — ” 

“ Who is going after Paul ? ” she interrupted. * 

“ Herbert and I.” 

“Then you had better hurry.” 

“ I’m going now.” He opened the door, then shut- 
ting it again, he added, gravely : “ I want to talk with 
you this evening, Daisy. I think you are mistaken 
about the doctor — ” 

“ Do go, Horatio.” 

“ I’m going,” lifting the latch. “ Promise me.” 

“ Promise what ? ” 

“ That you will listen.” 

“ Maybe I will,” she said, quietly. If she had been 
mistaken, if she could know the truth, and it would 
save from this parting that she felt she could not live 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


371 


through, she would hear all that Horatio would say, she 
thought. She had found, this afternoon, that her love 
was greater than her resentment. But go now,” she 
added. 

Fm off,” opening the door. If father and 
mother are home before I am, just mention that plan 
to them, and talk it up.” 

I will.” 

Good-bye,” and he was gone. She heard the 
sound of his steps, and his merry whistle, as he ran 
down the stairs. And then she was alone again with her 
thoughts. 

An hour later, Christie came up. 

^‘It is after six,” she said, ‘^and father and mother 
have not come home. What shall we do about tea ? ” 
Get it, I suppose. Fm coming down now to help 
you. Is Horatio home yet ? ” 

No : and he’ll be hungry when he comes.” 

Fll set the table,” Daisy said, as they descended the 
stairs, ^^if you’ll make the tea. Where is Leslie ? ” 

She is doing something to her blue silk.” 

'"Oh, come here!” cried Leslie from the sitting- 
room. See what I am doing ” (displaying the skirt). 
" Fm putting a fold around the bottom. Jane Wade 
says that it’s all the fashion, and that some of Laura 
Van Pike’s are trimmed that way. Don’t it look 
stylish ? ” 

"It looks beautiful,” said Daisy, admiringly. 

" You might fix your brown one so. Why, there’s 


372 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Herbert coming all alone ! I wonder where the others 
are. What do yon want ? ” she asked as he came in. 

I want some supper just now. Oh ! the table ain’t 
even set.” 

I’m setting it,” cried Daisy, hurrying on the cloth. 
Did you find Paul ? ” 

Well, yes : we found him. That is, we saw him on 
theYiver with Sam and those low fellows.” 

Just as we feared,” said Daisy. 

He ought to be whipped,” said Lestie, sewing vig- 
orously. 

‘^What is Horatio going to do?” asked Christie, 
coming from the kitchen. 

‘‘ He’s going to wait there awhile for him — do give 
me something to eat. I’m starving.” 

“ Here’s a ginger cake,” said Daisy. What good 
will waiting do ? ” 

^^He can’t come home and leave him there,” re- 
turned Herbert, eating. “And if they don’t come 
ashore in a little while, he’ll take a boat and go after 
’em. Sam’s got somebody else’s boat and left his there, 
unlocked. 

“ That is fortunate,” said Daisy. “ Is the tea boiled, 
Christie ? ” 

“ Almost.” 

“ Just hurry it,” cried Herbert. “ Horatio said that 
you were not to wait for him. And father and mother 
will have all they want at Van Pike’s.” 

“ Oh, I do tl^ink my new dress will look elegant ! ” 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


373 


cried Lestie, holding it out at arms’ length to see the 
effect. 

“ There they are now,” said Herbert, who was stand- 
ing by the window. 

Who ? ” cried his sisters. 

Father and mother. If that tea ain’t boiled. I’ll 
take another cake.” 

Oh ! I thought you meant Horatio and Paul,” 
Daisy said, a little disappointed in her anxiety. 

The tea’s ready,” said Christie, if you want any.” 

He needed no second invitation, but began his sup- 
per. Christie seated herself to pour out the tea. 

Oh, I’m so glad you’re back, mother ! ” cried Lestie, 
as they entered. Do tell me all about it. How was 
Laura dressed ? ” 

‘‘In white — why where’s Paul.^” looking around 
the room. 

“Oh, mother ! cried Christie, “Paul has run off.” 

“ Kun off ! ” echoed Mrs. Brentwell. 

“ White what, mother ? ” said Lestie, eagerly. 

“ Silk. Have you tried to find him ? ” 

“Horatio went after him a long time ago,” 
Daisy said. 

“Don’t any body else want any supper ? ” asked 
Herbert from the table. 

“ What was it trimmed with, mother?” continued 
Lestie. 

“ White lace. Why how could he get an opportu- 
nity to run off ? ” 


374 


DAISY BEEisTWELL. 


don’t know, indeed,” said Christie. Lestie 
thought he was with me, and I thought he was with her, 
and then we thought he was with Herbert in the garden 
or up stairs with Daisy.” 

Mrs. Brentwell sighed heavily, and sat down in her 
rocking-chair. Mr. Brentwell said nothing. He was 
wrapt in deep thought. 

Who were the bridesmaids, mother ? ” Lestie 
persisted. 

There was only one, and I did not know her. I 
Avill tell you all about it presently. George, what are 
we to do ? ” 

‘^Wife, I don’t know.” 

Horatio had a good idea,” Daisy said ; and she 
told them of it. 

‘^It is an excellent idea,” Mr. Brentwell said, when 
she had finished. And we will act upon it.” 

He drew his purse from his pocket. This will help 
us a little,” taking a roll of bills from it. 

Oh, the wedding fee ! ” cried Lestie. How 
much ? ” 

Fifty dollars,” Mr. Brentwell said, gleefully, ‘^and 
it will do a great deal towards saving Paul.” 

And they sat in the twilight, and talked it over just 
as Horatio had desired. The clock struck seven, and 
» they did not come ; eight, and still they were not there. 

‘‘It is strange they are not here,” Mrs. Brentwell 
said. 

“ I am afraid Horatio has got into trouble with 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


375 


Lukens,” Mr. Brentwell rejoined. I think I will walk 
up that way and see if anything is wrong.” 

And I will go with you,” said Herbert. 

There is no knowing,” said Lestie, as they went 
out, what that horrid fellow might do to Horatio.” 

The table was still spread, with Horatio’s supper on 
it, and a little for Paul. Lestie repeatedly declared that 
the latter did not deserve any. 

They did not light a light, but sat in the dark, 
watching for their return. Mrs. Brentwell gave her 
daughters a description ^f the wedding, and before they 
realized how the time had flown the clock struck nine. 
Nine o’clock I and they had not come. They talked 
less after that, and were more anxious, and the time 
dragged. It seemed like two hours, and the clock 
struck ten. Yes, ten ; they all counted the strokes, 
and then asked each other if that were true. Christie 
got up and felt the hands of the clock, as she did that 
night in March when they sat waiting for father. How 
long ago it seemed now ! 

The moon had risen, and, struggling through weary 
clouds, lighted the room for a moment with sad rays, 
and then hid its face again behind the inky curtains. 
The clock ticked on, louder, louder every second, the 
summer winds played among the branches of the tall 
trees, and no other sounds were heard. No one spoke, 
but they sat trembling and fearing yet hiding the fear 
from one another. Lestie was the first to break the 
long silence. 


376 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


Why don’t they come, mother ? ” she said. 

They will be here presently,” Mrs. Brentwell 
answered, trying to speak hopefully. Then there was 
silence again, while the clock ticked persistently on, and 
the breeze murmured among the trees. 

'‘They are coming,” Christie said, at length, "I 
hear footsteps. ” 

" Yes,” said Daisy, as they heard a quick light step 
rapidly approaching, “ and Horatio is on ahead. I 
know his step. I suppose father is bringing Paul. 
Mother, he’ll want something to eat.” 

"I was thinking of that,” said Mrs. Brentwell. 
" I’ll put the tea on right away.” How light her heart 
was now, as she stirred the fire up and put the tea on to 
warm for Horatio ! 

The steps were nearer. Christie went out to the 
door to meet him. How long he was in coming ! They 
must have heard his steps when he was a great way off. 
But he was in sight now ; they could discern the figure. 
He was at the gate : he was coming in — he had passed by. 

"Why, what makes him go past ?” cried Christie. 

" It was not Horatio after all,” said Daisy, as she re- 
cognized Thurston’s figure in the dim moonlight. No 
one else knew him : no one else loved him. They sat 
down again in silence and with sinking hearts. The 
clock ticked on, on, on, and then it struck eleven, loud 
and strong. At nine they were anxious, at ten they 
were troubled, and now it was eleven, and they were 
almost in despair. 


DAISY BREOTWELL. 


377 


There was sound of footsteps again. Now they were 
coming ! Quick, very quick ; some one was running. 
Nearer they came, nearer. Paul dashed through the 
gate, followed by a ragged boy. Their feet scarcely 
seemed to touch the ground as they ran, and they en- 
tered the sitting-room panting for breath. 

Paul threw himself on the floor at Mrs. Brentwelks 
feet. 

Oh, mother! mother!” he cried, mother! 
mother ! ” 

What is it, Paul ?” she cried, excitedly, trying to 
raise him up, while the ragged boy stood looking on. 

Mother ! mother ! ” he cried again. 

You’re a naughty boy,” said Lestie, who on no 
occasion omitted to rebuke. 

Where are father and the boys ? ” asked Christie. 

‘‘ Oh, mother ! ” cried Paul, again. 

Where are they, Paul ? ” repeated Mrs. Brentwell. 

There, sit up, child, your father sha’n’t whip you to- 
night, if that troubles you so much.” 

If he’d only kill me,” screamed the child. 

Be after tellin’,” said the ragged boy, afore they 
bring the body sure.” 

The body ! ” they cried. 

Who is it ? Tell us, boy,” cried Mrs. Brentwell. 

An’ sure an’ I don’t know liis name, but it was the 
tall young man.” 

Horatio ! ” almost screamed the mother, springing 
up, unmindful of Paul, who grasped her skirts. 


378 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


^^An’ that’s the name, mum,” coolly replied the 
boy. 

She sank back, ^^Oh, my Heavenly Father, this 
is too much ! ” she moaned, clasping her hands. 

The sisters screamed. 

Horatio is not dead,” cried Daisy, it cannot be. 
Surely there is a mistake.” 

^^No, mum,” said the boy, growing bold, that’s 
the name, sure, of the young man what is drowned.” 

She turned almost fiercely upon him. Why did 
you come here, you wretch, you wretch ! Go, and never 
let us see your wicked face again.” 

He shrunk away from her, but lingered at the door, 
determined to see it out, and wishing from the depths 
of his small stony heart that they would come with the 
body ; and he listened for them. 

They’re coming,” he cried at length, in a relieved 

tone. 

Daisy stopped in her walk about the room, and 
Lestie ran to the door to see them, while Christie 
cowered by her mother and Paul. . 

They were coming, but very slowly. Far away 
they heard the even tread of the heavy feet as they bore 
their burden on. It was a slight figure, but the cold 
hand of death had made it heavy to bear. And thus 
Horatio entered the home he had left so full of life and 
hope a few hours before. 

They laid him on the settee and covered him, and 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


37a 


then the men who had brought him went silently out, 
and the ragged boy followed. 

They were alone with their dead. The clock may 
have ticked on^ and the breeze may have murmured in 
the trees ; but no one heeded. 

How did it occur Mrs. Brentwell asked, after 
a long time. Paul, who was sitting up now, told what 
he knew. Horatio, after waiting some time, had taken 
Sam^s old boat to go after them, and when Sam saw 
him coming, he ordered the fishing lines up, and they 
rowed rapidly down the stream, Horatio following. The 
race continued some time, and then they saw his boat 
was sinking. It leaked, they knew, though he could not 
have perceived it before in his eagerness to overtake 
them. He called out to them to rescue him, hut Sam 
laughed a cruel laugh and rowed fiercely on. When 
Paul looked again, the boat had gone down, and Horatia 
was swimming for the shore. He was a good swimmer 
and the shore was near, so they did not apprehend any 
danger. But as they watched him, he sank suddenly 
from their sight and did not rise again. Then Sam 
turned his boat about and rowed swiftly to him, hut it 
was too late ; he was gohe. They thought that he must 
have been seized with a cramp ; for the water was cold 
and he must have been heated from the exercise of row- 
ing. Tlie boys, Paul foremost, dived into the water to 
find the body, but it was a long time before they were 
successful. They were thus employed when Mr. Brent- 
well and Herbert arrived there. 


380 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


The bell of St PauFs tolled a midnight chime. The 
sleeping villagers awoke and counted the strokes. 
Twenty-one ! Who was dead ? They had known of no 
young person who was ill. 

In the morning all Newfield knew that Horatio 
Brentwell was dead, drowned dead. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


“ Ah, wo to the heart of fond father and mother. 

No sleep, naught but anguish and watching in sorrow* 

Thou art clad in white robes in the garden of glory. 

We are clad in the black robe of sorrow and mourning.” 

From the Arabic.. . . Scribner’s Monthet. 

rriHAT night ! That long night of death ! But it 
would end, and the morning would dawn, and 
dawn as brightly as it did yesterday when Horatio awoke 
in health and life. 

The grey light came from the east, and bathed 
the earth in beauty. The clouds that floated over the sky 
during the long night-watch were gone. The sun rose, 
and smiled its morning recognition to the earth, and 
beamed upon the flowers and trees, and the birds uprose 
to herald the coming with music. They took no note 
that death had walked abroad since that sun had bade 
them good night a few hours ago. They scared little 
that a heart that had been full of life and hope when 
the evening shadows gathered, had ceased to beat for- 
ever. The sun shone kindly down on the bosom of the 
river — as kindly as on the little rectory ; the birds dip- 
ped into the blue waters and warbled a song in praise. 
The river flowed quietly on and. gave no sign of the dark 
deed it had done. 


382 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


All that night the family had remained by the body 
of the eldest-born. Paul lay on the floor, moaning and 
weeping. Mr. Brentwell sat at the foot of the settee 
with his face buried in his hands. No sound escaped 
his lips, and he gave no sign that he suffered. Daisy 
crouched on the floor by Horatio’s head, holding one of 
the damp pulseless hands in her own life-warm grasp. 
Mrs. Brentwell sat in her old chair by the empty flre- 
place, and Christie sat on the floor at her feet, leaning 
her head against her knees. Lestie and Herbert, locked 
in one another’s arms, lay on the floor, where they liad 
wept themselves to sleep — and the eldest-born lay dead ; 
there was no Horatio in time. 

The table with his supper yet upon it, sat in the 
middle of the floor. There were white biscuits and 
fresh butter, cold fowl left from dinner, a few peaches, 
and his share of the wedding cake which Mrs. Van Pike 
had sent to the children. The teapot sat on the kitchen 
stove, where Mrs. Brentwell had put it last night when 
they thought they heard him coming — only the light 
had gone out of the few coals under it as it had gone 
out cff her Ij^art. 

The sun crept slowly around to the window of the 
sitting-room, and threw its bright rays on the table and 
on the still flgure on the settee. It waked Lestie and 
Herbert from their troubled sleep. Mr. Brentwell 
raised his head. It was their hour of morning prayer. 
He took the Bible and prayer-book from the stand beside 
him, but in a moment they fell from his trembling hands. 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


383 


Let us pray,” he said hoarsely. 

They knelt. A long silence followed, while Mr. 
Brentwell essayed to open his lips in prayer. At last 
the words came — words he had thought he could never 
utter again. 

0, God ! ” he cried, clasping his hands, Thy will 
be done.” That was all. 

While they were yet on their knees. Dr. St. James 
came in at the door, which had remained open all night. 
Mr, Brentwell rose to greet him. 

Daisy knew the step, and the kind ^^My friends,” 
and buried her face deeper in her hands as she knelt by 
Horatio. The rest of the family arose and shook hands 
with him, and then he came to her, and took one of her 
hands in his : only for a moment ; for she did not 
return the clasp, and it fell to her side again as heavy 
and with as little life then as Horatio’s. 

Thurston explained that he had been called to see 
Sam Lukens early that morning, and there he had 
heard the sad news from the boys who were im attend- 
ance. 

Was Sam hurt much ? ” Paul asked. ^ 

Quite seriously, I think,” Thurston answered. 

The boat struck him in the side when he was in 
the water, and broke two of his ribs.” 

I hope he will die,” Lestie cried. 

Lestie, my child,” Mrs. Brentwell said, rebuk- 

ingly- 

Thurston’s eyes turned to the kneeling figure, and 


384 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


he thought of the weariness of her long vigil. She was 
sorrow stricken, and he longed to take her to his heart 
and comfort her, and be all to her that he had been in 
the days before, and all that Horatio had been, too. 
But it could not be. So he turned to Mrs. Brentwell, 
and spoke to her of his sympathy in their grief, and of 
his sorrow for the loss of his friend. 

Mother Wade was sent for, and then Mrs. Brentwell 
retired to her room, and the three sisters went up stairs. 
When Daisy reached her room, walking like one in a 
dreadful dream, she saw that Horatio’s door stood open, 
revealing the little white bed. Some books were lying 
carelessly on it, where he had thrown them yesterday, 
when he came from the doctor’s oflBce ; and on the 
table were others, which Thurston had given him a few 
days before. These were books that he had been want- 
ing a long time, and when they came there, was no time 
to read them, and only yesterday at breakfast, he had 
paid that he would rise an hour earlier every morning 
and gain the time in that way ; and his mother had 
said that he was working too hard now, and that in- 
stead of tailing less rest he should take more. So he 
had taken more, he was taking it now, lying so quietly, 
resting supremely, with the books unread ; and even the 
fond mother will never fear again that he is weary. 
He has read the last page and closed the last book. 
Time will roll on ; new books will be written ; men of 
earth will gain more knowledge ; but Horatio will open 
no more books ; his knowledge is full and complete. 


DAISY BEEITTWELL. 


385 


Daisy stood by the bed. How she came there, she 
scarcely knew ; for she had not intended to enter ; she 
had thought but the moment before that she would 
never go in there again. But there she was, looking on 
the old familiar furniture — furniture she had known 
from her childhood. How strange it looked to-day ! 
Death seemed written on the face of everything. 

She must have stood there a long time when Christie 
came in. 

Daisy, dear sister, don’t stay here,” she said. I 
thought you were lying down.” 

Lying down ! ” she repeated, scarcely heeding her. 

Come — 0, Daisy ! Daisy ! ” she threw her arms 
around her. 

^"Are you crying, Christie ? ” Daisy said, quietly. 

I don’t. See ! ” But Christie still wept as she raised 
her face. 

Come, lie down,” she said, forgetting herself again. 
Daisy obeyed her mecrhanically. 

Who is down stairs ? ” she asked, as Christie stood 
by the bed. 

^'Mother Wade has come. The doctor and Silas 
are there, and the neighbors are coming in and out. 
And Daisy,” she went on, softly, they have laid him 
out in the parlor, and — and the funeral is to be to- 
morrow.” 

To-morrow !” cried Daisy. So soon, so soon.” 

They think it is better,” Christie only said. 

‘^To-morrow, to-morrow,” Daisy murmured, turn- 
17 


386 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


ing on her pillow. Herbert came at that moment to 
call Christie. She was needed down stairs ; mother 
could not be up, and some one must be there. So 
Christie went. And from that time through the whole 
long day she was kept busy : there was not a moment to 
rest, not a moment for her to think of her own grief. 
Here her little feet trod, and there, assisting in all of 
the last sad duties, seeing every one, talking to the 
curious villagers who came, and shielding her parents 
from their ill-timed questions and poorly shown kind- 
ness. Silas and Herbert were by her, and gave her what 
assistance they could, but every moment she missed the 
one who, had another been dead, would have taken this 
burden on his own strong shoulders and shielded her. 
Sometimes almost forgetting why the anguish was, only 
.^a^fnembering that there was anguish, she would think 
i^he heard his step, or his voice speaking to some one, 
or would wonder why he did not come — that the world 
was not the world without him ; then she would remem- 
ber why he came not : that he lay dead in the parlor, 
that she would never hear his voice again, that his step 
would never sound upon -the doorway or on the porch. 
And sometimes she would stop and almost wonder if it 
were only yesterday, or years and years ago, that father 
and mother had gone to the wedding, and they had 
watched them depart, and Horatio had gone merrily 
down the street. It seemed as if it had happened long 
ago in her childhood and that she was old now. 

That long day came to an end, the night shadows 


DAISY BREN-TWELL. 


387 


fell over the rectory, and there was perfect quietness 
there. The busy feet that had tramped heedlessly in 
all day had ceased. The last curious one had looked 
on the calm young face and gone away sorrowing, and 
the broken family sat down alone together. 

The funeral was to meet at the rectory at half past 
two the next afternoon, and at the church at three 
o’clock. 

The neighbors brought in mourning garments for the 
mother and sisters. Daisy, arrayed in Mrs. Scott’s most 
stylish robes, stood by the window of her room that 
afternoon, watching the people as they came. Men 
kept guard by the door, and walked slowly up and down 
the path. Women talked in low tones and shook their 
heads solemnly. 

The Rev. Mr. Hawkins, of Fairhope, officiated at the 
funeral. To him it was only some one who had to be 
buried, one of the many funerals he had expected to 
attend when he entered the ministry. His wife kept a 
list of them, and of the marriages he performed, so that 
he would know, when he was an old man, just what 
work he had done. And he put it down in his Parish 
Register, and it would swell the number at the Conven- 
tional report. But, taking funerals as a whole, there 
were few he enjoyed as he did this. There had been a 
carriage sent for him, and he had brought his wife and 
three noisy children with him, that they might enjoy 
the ride. And then he always had been anxious for Mr. 
Brentwell to hear him preach. So he selected his 


388 


DAISY BKEKTWELL. 


sermon with gi’eat care, and hurled it at the head of the 
afflicted father, who, poor man, heard not a word. 
But Mr. Hawkins, watching him closely, imagined that 
the fixed look of almost despair, was intense interest, 
and mentioned that fact to his wife on their drive home. 
And she told him of the many she saw who were greatly 
interested, who never took their eyes off him. 

Then he confided to her that he would stand a pretty 
good chance of being called to St. PauFs if Mr. Brent- 
well should leave, and she thought they would want to 
leave now ; and they both talked of the large salary that 
was given there, and the small one given at Fairhope. 

So they buried him in the church-yard, just in sight 
of his own chamber window. And as they laid him in 
the grave, the white curtains burst their cords, and 
seemed playing in the wind, to wave a sad farewell. 

The last words were spoken, the last person gone, 
and the clergyman and his family went back to their 
home. And oh, the dreariness of that home ! Yet 
people will live, and people have appetites though the 
heaviest of sorrow come. So mourning, penitent Paul 
was hungry and wanted his dinner. Mrs. Brentwell 
hastened to prepare it, while Christie set the table, bring- 
ing out the pile of eight plates, and was putting them 
around in their old places, when Lestie cried out, 
Christie, there are only seven ! ’’ 

Seven, only seven ! and there would never again be 
eight. There was a vacant place by Lestie, an empty 
chair against the wall, a solitary plate on the shelf. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


“The old man has played out his part in the scene, 
Wherever he now is, I hope he’s more clean. 

Yet give us a thought free of scoffing or ban 
To that Dirty Old House and that Dirty Old Man.” 

— William Allingham. 


A SMALL boy opened the rectory gate, and ran up 
the walk. He stop|)ed on the porch, and looked 
at the door, uncertain whether he had the courage or 
not. But there was no alternative ; knock he must, so 
knock he did. 

Paul answered the summons. 

“ Yer par in ? ” asked the boy. 

Hello, you Simpkins! You needn’t be coming 
here ; I’m a good boy now, and I ain’t going to have 
another thing to do with any of your gang.” 

I’ve come for your par,” said Simpkins, meekly. 

“ My father I you needn’t be thinking he’ll talk to 
the likes o’ you. So go on. We don’t allow naughty 
boys in our yard.” 

^^I want to see your par. Sam sent for him.” 

Sam Lukens ? He killed my brother.” 

^^’Twas your own fault,” growing bolder. 

You’ll be kicked out if you say much,” cried Paul. 

I want to see your par,” with determination and 


390 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


boldness combined. “ Sam’s a-dyin’, and the woman 
wants him right off.” 

You get out !” incredulously. He’s drunk.” 

No ; he ain’t ; he’s a-dyin’ on the bed, and his 
mammy’s settin’ by him a-cryin’.” 

Who knew he had a mother ? ” said Paul, doubt- 
fully. 

“ He did,” said Simpkins, practically. 

Herbert appeared at that moment, and inquired into 
^ the conversation. 

“ There ain’t any truth to it,” Paul said, when Simp- 
kins had told his story. 

It’s Bible truth,” said Simpkins. Hope to die if 
it ain’t.” As all things must be credited after that awful 
hope, Herbert said : 

'‘Well, father will come.” 

" Sure ? ” said the boy, backing down the steps. 

" Of course,” with dignity ; and the door shut 
after him. 

"Can I go, father ? ” Paul said, as Mr. Brentwell 
was preparing to leave the house. 

" I do not think it would be best, my son,” he said, 
kindly, and Paul said no more. 

He was trying to be a better child. His brother’s 
death had changed him greatly. It had brought him, 
young as he was, to realize what a downward path he 
had been treading. And though he looked upon Sam 
as Horatio’s murderer, as did every one, yet he felt that 
he had been altogether to blame himself. 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


391 


Mr. Brentwell walked quickly up the road to Sam's 
hut. The door was closed, which plainly indicated that 
that gentleman was not receiving common callers that day. 
The clergyman knocked softly upon it. Feeble hands 
from within tried to, pull it open, but were unsuccessful. 

Come in," said a woman’s voice at length, I can- 
not open it.” 

It required all Mr. Brentwell’s strength to do so ; for 
the hinges were rusty from little use. Sam’s door had 
never been shut by day or night in warm weather. The 
room appeared very dark to Mr. Brent well’s eyes, when 
he first entered, and he did not immediately recognize 
the black-robed woman who stood waiting. 

She held out her hand to him. 

I was afraid you would not come,” she said, and 
I wanted you to see my poqr boy before he dies. My 
boy ! my boy ! ” 

^‘Mrs. Lorraine,” Mr. Brentwell said in great sur- 
prise, is it possible that you are this man’s mother ? ” 

Yes, I am his mother, and he is my only boy,” she 
said, weeping, as she led him to the corner, where Sam 
lay on a bundle of straw. 

^^Has it come to this, my poor fellow ?” Mr. Brenfc- 
well said as he bent over him. 

Yes,” he growled, ‘^and mighty glad you are of it. 
It’ll be a high day in Newfield, when I’m stowed away 
under the ground.” 

Don’t talk that way, Sammy ; you break my 
heart,” wept the mother. 


392 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


I did that long enough ago/’ he muttered. 

Oh, no ; that’s all over now,” (she sat down by 
him and took his hand,) ^^and you’re to be my 
boy again, and take care of me and cheer my old 
days.” 

Sam turned to Mr. Brent well. She wanted you,” 
he said fiercely, I didn’t. I didn’t want your face 
around here. I know what you come for ; it’s about 
that boy of yours. Well, I’m her boy and he was 
yours ; what’s the difference, I’d like to know ? ” 

My good man — ” 

‘‘I know all you’ve got to say. I have had it drum- 
med into my ears enough. I’ll hear no more. You 
came about that boy of yours, did you ? Settle it the 
best you can. You see I’m dying ; what more can you 
get out of me ? ” 

‘‘ Oh, Sammy, Sammy, my boy, my boy ! ” moaned 
Mrs. Lorraine, kissing his horny hand. 

I see that you are dying — ” began Mr. Brentwell. 
Well, what more ? A life for a life, ain’t it ? You 
say I killed your boy-—” 

I do not say you killed my boy.” * 

Humph!” sneered Sam, where a man’s dying, 
it’s no time to lie.” 

Ho ; my friend, it is not ; this is a solemn hour ; 
all eternity depends upon it.” 

‘‘ Eternity ! Don’t be canting to me. I won’t hear 
it. If I’d never heard a word of cant, I’d have been a 
better man. She’ll tell you that ; she’ll tell you how it all 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


393 


begun. ■ They took me when I was a hoy, and canted at 
me from morning till night.” 

. Oh no, Sammy.” 

Yes ; and you know it ; and you joined ’em.” 

I was so anxious for your soul, Sammy.” 

My soul ! That’s a good joke ! Where’s my soul 
going now ? You know well.” 

Your soul need not be eternally lost,” Mr. Brent- 
well said. It will not be if you trust in the Saviour 
who died for you. He stands waiting, with forgiveness 
on His lips, and in His heart. Turn to Him, and cast 
yourself into His arms.” 

If they had talked that way to me, I’d ’ave been 
better,” Sam said more quietly. But they^ only told 
me that I’d be lost forever. They got a revival up at 
Fairhope one winter, and all the parsons and deacons 
for miles around came to have a finger in the pie. They 
were going to convert every body right off. There was 
one man talked to me a whole fortnight about the evil 
of my ways, but I didn’t see that they were a bit more 
evil than his were. I was a steady, industrious boy, and 
minded my mother ; didn’t I, mother ? ” 

^"Yes, that you did, Sammy. You were a steady 
boy,” Mrs. Lorraine answered tenderly. 

I never cheated or told lies, and that is more than 
he could say ; for he cheated and lied all day long at his 
store. If that is your religion I don’t want any of it.” 

‘^It is not religion. But we will not talk of the 
past : the present is all we can attend to. The Saviour 
17 * 


394 


DAISY BllE^TWELL. 


in His great love, forgives all that is gone, and in- 
vites — ” 

‘‘Love! much love I heard: it was fire and brim- 
stone. They told me of God’s anger, and I should be 
lost forever,” Lukens went on excitedly. He was sink- 
ing fast. 

“They frightened me so one night that I went up to 
be prayed for. Then you ought to have heard them. 
Deacon Jones, who had cheated his mother out of all her 
money, give it to me hot and heavy, making believe he 
was praying. He told the Lord I was the biggest rascal 
in the town, and advised Him to deal with me accord- 
ingly—” 

“ My good man,” Mr. Brentwell in^rupted. 

“Hear me out,” cried Sam. “They got them all 
up at the point of the bayonet, and then talked about 
‘winning souls,’ and what a blessed season they’d had, 
and how the Lord was in their midst. It was the devil in 
their midst 1 He entered my heart then and has had 
possession ever since. And I’m going to spend eternity 
with him.” He ended with a feeble groan. 

“The Saviour waits to receive you, if you will but 
turn to Him at this last moment.” 

“ There is no mercy for me. I’m lost, I’m lost.” 

“Oh Sammy, Sammy,” Mrs. Lorraine moaned. 

“ ‘ Come now and let us reason together, saith the 
Lord, though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be white 
as snow : though they be red like crimson, they shall be 
as wool,’ ” said Mr. Brentwell. 


^ DAISY BEEXTWELL. 


395 


That is not for me/’ cried Sam. I am lost.” 

Oh pray for him,” wept Mrs. Lorraine. 

‘‘ Pray for me ! no, he shall not. He pray for me 
when I ruined his hoy, his Paul — ” 

Thank God ! you did not,” said Mr. Brentwell, 
quietly. You have but a few moments on earth, 
Lukens,” he added, ‘‘let us spend them in preparing 
you to meet your Judge.” 

“It is too late,” he answered in the same hardened 
voice, while he failed visibly. 

“It is never too late: remember the dying thief.” 

“ He wanted to repent : I don’t.” Truly the Spirit 
of God had left this man. 

“Oh Sammy, dear Sammy ! turn unto the Lord and 
* be saved.” Mrs. Lorraine knelt by him with clasped 
hands, and streaniing eyes. Mr. Brentwell knelt to 
pray, but Sam rudely called out, 

“Hone of that. You may go now.” 

“I cannot leave you while you are in this condi- 
tion.”* 

“Then you will stay with me for all eternity. 
Mother, I am dying ! dying ! Curse ’em all, I say ! I’m 
d3dng,” he gasped. “ Pm lost — lost — ” He started up 
with almost a howl, and sank back dead. As they gazed 
silently upon the distorted features, Mr. Brentwell 
remembered the peace that was written on the face of 
his eldest born, and thanked God. And he saw then 
that the Chastening Hand had dealt tenderly with him. 
Then he turned to Mrs. Lorraine. 


396 


DAISY BRENTWELL. ^ 


My friend/’ he said, taking her hand ; but she in- 
terrupted him. 

This is more than I can bear,” she cried, wildly. 
'^Through my whole life I have had sorrow, but never 
like this. I have hoped and prayed since the day he 
left me that he would come back to me a changed man. 
See ! how God has answered my prayer.” 

Let us pray,” Mr. Brentwell said. 

She was quieter when he was done praying, and begged 
to be left alone with her dead. Send some one to me 
at evening,” she said. I cannot see any one before.” 

He related the death-bed scene to them at home, 
and told them of the mother. Paul, sitting on his 
knee, listened and trembled. And that night when they 
gathered around the family altar, they thanked Him 
who doeth all things well, that Horatio was at rest in 
the Saviour’s arms. 

The following morning Sam was buried by the river 
shore. Mr. and Mrs. Brentwell, Paul and Christie, 
the doctor and the old mother, were the only persons 
present. 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


"TT was a chilly day in the latter part of September. 

There had been rain all of the previous week, but 
this morning the sun shone out again. The earth 
welcomed her old friend, and every one in Xewfield told 
every one else that it had cleared off, and that there 
would be pleasant weather. 

Mr. Millard had planned a visit to the city in the 
beginning of the week, and he knew that that was the 
sole reason it had rained. The tvonder was that it did 
clear off at all. But as it did clear off this September 
morning, Mr. Millard l^tarted for the city, leaving his son 
in charge of the tiny drug store for that day. This 
responsibility so increased Mark’s importance that he 
was quite above speaking to his mother on ordinary 
topics when he went to his dinner, but ate in dignity 
and silence, and to further show his authority, he 
closed the store in the afternoon. Then he donned 
his best necktie, brushed his old silk hat until it was 
new, and went out. He walked promptly up the street 
swinging his father’s cane, cutting all old acquaintances 
who were not swinging canes, or were not proprietors of 
some establishment, if said establishment were only an 
apple stand. When he had walked as far as the quiet 


398 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


little rectory, he stood at the gate surveying the house 
as tliough he were determining whether he would or 
would not honor the inmates with a call. At length he 
determined to do so, which was not at all surprising, 
considering he had made up his mind to the call, early 
in the morning, and thought of it ever since. 

He came fully prepared to conquer, having com- 
posed several impressive remarks, the gist of which were 
taken from his mother’s old Shakespeare. Lestie, look- 
ing out of the window, and seeing him walk up slowly 
to the door, cried out, 

Oh, there’s Mark Millard ! I’m going up stairs,” 
and went hastily out of the room. 

Mrs. Brentwell admitted him, and expressed some 
surprise in a quiet way, that he was at liberty to call at 
that time of the day. 

Oh,” he said, with a wave* of his hand — a sure 
indication of grandeur — seating himself, Oh, I am my 
own master, as you may say, my own master. And 
liberty, as you may say, is sweet. At early dawn it 
entered my father’s paternal head to visit the city, as 
you may say, leaving me monarch of all I survey. So I 
.took the opportunity to call and condole with you for 
your late affliction.” 

Is the store shut ? ” asked Paul, who was manu- 
facturing a patent winding machine for Daisy’s zephyr. 

It am,” with a kingly air. 

What would any one do if they wanted some medi- 
cine ? ” Paul continued. 


DAISY BREiq^TWELL. 


399 


^‘Wait till to-morrow. I make it a rule,” address- 
ing Mrs. Brentwell, never to do to-day what could be 
put off until to-morrow, and I find it a pretty good rule,” 
forgetting Shakespeare, and relaxing into slang, it car- 
ries a fellow along mighty easy. I thought,” turning to 
Daisy, that you might be wanting to take a walk 
this afternoon. If so, I’m at your service.” 

Thank you,” Daisy said, ‘^but — ” 

Oh,” cried Paul, she can put it off until to- 
morrow or some other day, so there’s no use of her 
going to-day.” 

I was speaking of duties,” Mark said, with grand- 
eur. ‘^Duties lie here, and pleasures there,” showing 
their exact positions on the extremities of his father’s 
cane. Pleasures, you see, resting on the head of the 
cane, come before duties. So Miss Daisy, I am at your 
service if you wish 'pleasure, of a stroll.” 

Thank you,” Daisy said, but I do not wish it.” 

The river bank is too damp from the recent 
rain,” Mrs. Brentwell said, coming to her daughter’s 
aid. 

Oh, we can choose another path,” Mark said oblig- 
ingly, forgetting his grandeur again, It’s all one to 
me ; one’s as good as t’other — ” 

Lestie bounded into the room and interrupted him, 
"‘^Oh, mother,” she cried, barely recognizing Mark, 
here’s Mr. Kundel with two bags of apples ! Where’ll 
he put ’em ?” 

An old weather-beaten farmer followed her. Good 


400 


DAISY BBENTWELL. 


afternoon, Mis’ Brentwell an’ young ladies,” he said. 
‘‘I’ve fetched you a handful of apples to cheer you 
up.” 

Mrs. Brentwell thanked him as she arose to greet him. 

“ Sit down with us a little while,” she said. 

“ Thank you ; I will. You see,” he continued, when 
he was introduced to Mark, “ we were talking o’ you at 
home. Daisy there don’t look as chirp as she did in 
the airly summer, and them black dresses don’t add 
none ; an’ my woman she’s worrying about her, an’ about 
you all. You hain’t no idee. Mis’ Brentwell, what store 
she sets by you folks. She keeps crying over Horatio. 
‘Pa,’ says she, ‘ I couldn’t have felt worse if he’d been 
my own.’ No more she could. And it’s jes’ so with 
every one in Newfield.” He drew his rough sleeve over 
his moist eyes. Paul burst into tears, and Lestie fled 
weeping from the room. 

“ I didn’t come here to make you cry,” he continued, 
looking around on the wet eyes ; “I came to bring you a 
handful of airly apples. And my woman she sent her 
love along with ’em, and says they’re mighty cheerin’ 
apples. Paul, they’re settin’ in the porch. Jes’ run and 
get one for your mother ; that’s a good boy. Everybody’s 
a-talkin’,” he said, as Paul left the room, “ about the 
goodness of that boy. The Lord is free with his mercies. 
Mis’ Brentwell. He’s given you a son in the place of the 
one He borrowed for a spell.” 

“Well,” said Mark, rising, “I’ll be making tracks 
for home. I’ll drop in again, when you’re more lonely. j 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


401 


Good day, all hands.’’ And he departed, grandeur, 
necktie and cane. 

‘‘ An’ so that’s the new young man,” Mr. Rundel said, 
‘^wal, he ain’t accordin’ to my likin’.” 

“ Nor to ours,” said Mrs. Brentwell. 

Paul brought enough apples in to supply the family, 
which were eaten and praised, and while they were yet 
enjoying them, Mr. Brentwell entered with an open let- 
ter in his hand. 

I have good news here,” when he had greeted the 
farmer. ‘‘I have a letter from Mr. Borne, and he tells 
me how he has been getting along since he left New- 
field.” 

hope he’s been having easier times than he had 
here,” said Mr. Eundel. 

He was called to a small place in New Jersey,” 
Mr. Brentwell continued, and for a few months did 
well. Then some difficulty arose am.ong the female 
members, which led to his resignation. The clergyman, 
who had charge of the church in that place, called upon 
him, and in their conversation spoke of our church gov- 
ernment, and in a way that led Mr. Borne & look into 
the subject, and, after a thorough looking, he applied 
for Holy Orders, and is to be ordained at Christmas. 
Meantime, the church people of the place support 
him.” 

‘^I’m glad of that news,” said Mr. Eundel, heartily. 
Maybe he wouldn’t object to a present from an old 
friend.” He drew a large wallet from his pocket, and 


402 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


taking a roll of bank notes from it, gave them to Mr. 
Brentwell. 

This will be very acceptable,” said that gentleman, 
“ and I will send it immediately.” 

I mustn’t forget the biggest part of my errand,” 
said Mr. Kundel, as he rose to take his leave, some time 
after. My woman wants Daisy to come out to spend 
the hull day, some day next week.” 

‘‘ Thank you,” said Daisy, I will surely come.” 

Wal, what day ? So ’s ’t I kin hitch up an’ come 
down for you.” 

You needn’t take that trouble.. It is only a mile, 
and I can easily walk that. I will come the first day 
my cloak is done,” she said, smiling ; for I have 
nothing to wear before.” 

Wal,” he said, not so well pleased ; but I’ll bring 
ye home.” . < 

That will do. Tell Mrs. Rundel to expect me 
about the middle of the week,” Daisy said, as he went 
out. 

The cloak was finished by the following Tuesday, 
and that day dawned bright and pleasant. Daisy set out 
to visit her old friend, Mrs. Rundel. Paul, who was 
permitted now to attend school, walked with her as far 
as the academy. 

She met Thurston at Miss Amelia’s h^use. He 
bowed in his gentlemanly way, and passed on, but she 
returned the recognition coolly, looking the other way, 
to the great delight of tlie owner of a pair of largo dark 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


403 


eyes which were peering through the blinds of an upper 
window of the house. 

The day had dawned as brightly on farmer Rundel 
as on Daisy. And to him it was just the day to take 
that load of grain to market. 

There’s no knowin’ when we may have another 
sich a day, ’ma,*’ he said to his wife, or how long the 
roads ’ll stay settled.” 

You’ll want'to see Daisy if she comes,” Mrs. Run- 
del said, as he stood ready to depart. 

"^’Tain’t likely she’ll come to-day. She said she 
wouldn’t be here afore the middle o’ the week — Wednes- 
day or Thursday, most likely. Anyway,” he said, as he 
went out of the door, I’ll be home long afore night. 
But if she should come, jes’ do your best to cheer that 
pale face o’ hern.” 

Two hours later ^Hhat pale face,” appeared at the 
wide open kitchen door. Mrs. Rundel was adittle sur- 
prised to see it, but very glad, and immediately began to 
cheer ” it, which proved no easy task ; for there was 
a great sadness over it. Her kind busy tongue ran on 
through the long day. Daisy listened, replied and 
smiled too when the proper smiling time came, but 
there was the sadness left. Still there was a quiet en- 
joyment in it all, and Daisy felt a contentment and 
peace that^he had not known in many days. 

As the day wore on the sun, that rose with such 
fair promise, was overcast with clouds, which gave 
appearance of rain. Daisy, looking out, saw their 


404 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


threatening appearance and said she must go home be- 
fore the rain came, but Mrs. Kundel, certain that ^^’pa” 
would soon be there, and would take her home in his 
covered wagon, persuaded her to wait for him. The 
time wore on ; supper was over and it was growing dark. 
Mr. Rundel had not come, and Daisy must go, hoping 
that she would have time to reach home before it 
rained. Mrs. Rundel again urged her to remain, but 
Daisy repenting that she had waited so long already, 
started off. 

It was beginning to rain a little, and she walked 
swiftly on. It was a lonely road at night, and Daisy 
was not brave. It was so bright and pleasant in the 
morning that she lingered on her way, but to-night, in 
the dreariness, every tree frightened her ; every clump 
of bushes was a crouching monster, preparing to spring 
upon her. First she was sorry she had waited so long, 
then she was sorry she had not waited longer. Perhaps 
Mr. Rundel had already returned, or she might have 
accepted the invitation to remain all night — they would 
not be alarmed at home, surely, if she did not come in 
this storm : they would not expect her to-night. Per- 
haps even now it was not too late to return. She 
stopped a moment to consider. There were no land- 
marks to be seen in the darkness by which she could tell 
how far she had gone. It seemed as though she had 
been on the journey a long time, and yet she was a long 
way off from home. She looked behind her, but the 
road was very dark, and she remembered all that had 


DAISY BKENTWELL. 


405 


frightened her as she came along, and she dared not re- 
turn, so she plodded on toward the village. 

She thought of them at home, and pictured to her- 
self the little group around the table in the sitting-room. 
Mother and the girls were sewing, father was reading 
and the boys were studying. Lestie was telling of some 
wonderful bit of news that she had heard, and if it were 
ill news, Christie was hoping that it was not true. And 
Paul, looking up from his book, would corroborate or 
contradict, according to the version he had heard. 
Herbert would ask if all those apples were gone, go 
down the cellar and find for himself that they were not, 
and bring a dishful up for them all to eat. And as they 
ate, they would talk of her, may be, thinking her safe. 

There were very few houses between farmer Eun- 
del’s and the village, and those few were built far back 
from the road, and in the storm to-night seemed closed 
so tight that not a ray of light came through the win- 
dows. So Daisy, seeing no signs of the light or of the 
houses, could form no idea how far she had gone. She 
leaned against the fence, weary and disheartened. She 
could never reach home, she thought, the road length- 
ened at every step. She remembered a story Horatio 
used to tell them, when they were children, of an 
enchanted princess who was trying to get to her father’s 
palace, and for every step she took the palace receded 
two, until at length, she turned in despair and went 
the other way and met the palace on the other side of 
the world. The village seemed so far away that Daisy 


406 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


began to think it, too, must be receding, and that she 
would reach it sooner by going around by China and 
entering on the north side. While she stood there, 
thinking of it, she heard the sound of a horse and car- 
riage approaching. For a moment she thought that it 
might be Mr. Eundel ; that he had reached hom» and, 
finding that she had gone on alone, had followed her, 
and would take her safely home at last. But no : that 
could not be ; for this which was approaching was a 
carriage, and the farmer’s lightest wagon was the 
lumbering vehicle that went to market twice a week 
and brought the family and neighbors to church on 
Sunday. It was coming nearer, who ever it was. She 
saw the dim figure in the darkness, and was uncertain 
whether to hide or stand out in bold relief. Perhaps 
it was some one she knew ; some one who would take 
her home. 

The doctor ! the thought flashed across her mind. 
Who but he would be out this stormy night ? This 
decided her : she would hide. She would rather stay 
in that road all night than let him take her home. She 
turned to find a hiding-place, but, catching her foot in 
the undergrowth, fell to the ground. The carriage, 
which was beside her now, stopped. A man got out of 
it and came to her. 

Are you hurt, my good woman ? ” a well known 
voice said, as he helped her to her feet again. 

Oh, Mr. Van Pike ! ” she cried. He seemed like 
an angel of light to her then. 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


407 


Daisy Brentwell ! ” he cried, in his turn. “ Why, 
is this you ? How came you here ? ” 

She told him in a few words. 

Well, your troubles are over now,’’ he said, smil- 
ing ; for I will take you home.” 

In a few moments they reached Hewfield, and Daisy 
found that she had not been over a dozen rods from 
Mrs. Barker’s house. 


CHAPTER XXXVI [I. 


“ fibr.— Sir, a word ere you go 

Are you a suitor to the maid you talk of, yes or no f 
Tra.— And if I be, sir, is it any offence ? 

Grt.— No ; if without more words you will get you hence. 
iTra.— Why, sir, I pray, are not the streets as free 
For me as for you ? 

Gre. ■ —But so is not she. ’ ’ 

— TAiaONO OF THE SHREW. 

T hey were waiting for her at home, sitting around 
the table, eating the apples, just as she had ima- 
gined, and were glad when she came. 

She sank exhausted upon the lounge. They ques- 
tioned her anxiously, hut she only knew that she was faint 
and cold and tired, leaving Mr. Van Pike to tell what 
he knew of her adventures. They carried her up stairs 
and laid her in the bed she thought of during the walk, 
and wondered if she would ever lie in again. 

She had caught a severe cold, and lay there shiver- 
ing, with the quilts of the house piled upon her. Mrs. 
Brentwell talked of sending for the doctor. After a while 
she slept a little ; then waking she listened to the howling 
of the wind and the beating of the rain, and thought of 
the dark road, and that it was just as dark now as it was 
then, and she would wonder how she reached home. Then 
she looked around the softly lighted room and saw her 
mother sitting near her, and tried to feel that it was 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


409 


reality, that she was not still fighting with the cruel 
storm, but she was cold yet, and wondered if she would 
ever be warm again. And sinking again into a half 
slumber, she made a vow that she would never, never go 
to see Mrs. Rundel again. 

Then she slept, it seemed a long time. She woke sud- 
denly, and thought of Horatio lying out in the cold alone. 
The rain beat on his grave, and the wind played roughly 
with the little rose-bush Christie had planted there. 
She tried to think why he did not get up and come in, 
what kept him there ; but she could not, so she would 
go out aud see ; for he must not lie there alone. 

She sprang up and was at the dqor, when her mother, 
who had lain down beside her, awoke. 

“ Daisy,’’ she cried, getting up quickly, where are 
you going ? ” 

After Horatio,” she answered wildly ; he’s out 
all alone in the rain. Let me go,” as her mother held 
her back. “ I must go. It is Horatio. Don’t you re- 
member Horatio ? He is my brother, and I must go 
to him.” 

Poor child, you may go soon,” Mrs. Brentwell said, 
sadly, as she lifted her in her strong arms, and laid her 
in her bed again. t 

I’m going now,” Daisy murmured, but weary and 
exhausted, making no resistance. 

Herbert and Mr. Brentwell were called, and they 
decided that the doctor must see her ; she might be very 
ill. A few minutes later a strange figure ran through the 
18 


410 


DAISY BREl^TWELL. 


midnight streets. It was Herbert going for Thurston, 
wrapt in his mother’s water-proof cloak, with the hood 
over his head. 

The doctor returned with him, and was taken imme- 
diately to Daisy’s room, where she lay, calling faintly 
though wildly for Horatio. She had a high fever and 
was delirious, but he did not apprehend anything serious; 
she would soon be well, he said. 

She was better the next morning, and knew him 
when he came, and answered his ^'good morning.” 

She was able to sit up in a few days, but was still far 
from being strong. And she looked so fragile in her 
quilted black wrapper, sitting in a great arm chair by 
the bed, that Thurston feared when he saw her that 
it would be a long time before she was entirely well. 

Her cheeks flushed a little when he sat by her, and 
took her wrist to feel the pulse, and she spoke in a 
trembling voice. She seemed to have forgotten her old 
anger toward him, or grown indifferent — he feared the 
latter. 

^‘I’m stronger to-day,” she said. 

A little,” he said, doubtfully. 

I shall soon be going out,” she went on, feeling 
that she must talk. 

It will be a long time before you will be strong 
enough to take a long walk,” he said ; then, as it re- 
minded him of the days past and of the long morning 
drives that would never come again, he regretted he had 
said it. Just now the gulf between them seemed so 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


411 


wide to him. When she was angry with him and re- 
fused to speak, he had hoped that when that was over 
she would return to him : he had not dreamed indiffer- 
ence possible. He did not consider that she was hut a 
woman, and that she eould do nothing else, that her 
weak hands were tied with strong cords. But Daisy 
considered, and Daisy knew it, and with an aching 
heart turned her eyes from the handsome face that she 
loved so well and that bent so near to her then. 

‘‘ You don’t know how strong I am,” she said, after 
a long awkward pause, when the doctor had counted the 
heating of her pulse four separate times, and laid the 
hand back in her lap. ‘‘ The children are planning an 
excursion for wild grapes, and I want to go with them.” 

hope I shall be consulted,” he said, lightly. 
Christie came into the room at that moment, to their 
great relief, and shortly after, he went away. 

That was on Wednesday, and he did not come again 
■until the next Sunday evening. He had been busy all 
the day, and came as Paul, the last of the family, was 
starting for service. The child expressed his pleasure 
that he had come ; for now Daisy would not be left 
alone : would the doctor stay and take care of her ? 
Thurston gravely said yes,” and Paul to all appear- 
ance relieved of much anxiety, ran out of the house, 
bounded over the nearest stile and, going reverently into 
the church, took his seat among the good boys. 

Thurston, with all medical dignity seated himself by 
his patient, and counted her pulse one long minute by 


412 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


his gold repeater, as anxiously and quietly as if life 
depended upon the issue. How much she thought of 
that minute ! Lestie had told her only yesterday that 
everybody was saying he never paid Mrs. Scott the least 
attention now, and that there- were many in the village 
who would not be in the least surprised if she sometime 
married Mr. Green, that she certainly gave him a great 
deal of encouragement. Daisy’s eyes had been opened, 
and she saw now that it had been idle gossip and her 
own jealous imagination and not his unfaithfulness that 
had been the cause of their parting. 

Your pulse is rather quick to-night,” he said, when 
the long minute was up, wondering if his coming had 
quickened it ; ‘‘ but you have no fever.” 

Of course she had had none for a week, and he 
knew it well, and so did she. He talked of her medi- 
cine, and asked after her cough. Then they talked of 
other trivial things, talked because silence was painful ; 
but they had little interest in what they said, and the 
conversation soon died out. Thurston sat looking on 
the floor, and then at her face, wondering all the time 
then deciding suddenly as was his wont that this sus- 
pense should end. He left his chair and walked up and 
down the room, while she sat quietly and watched, know- 
ing, with a true womanly intuition, what a storm raged 
in that heart, and what must follow soon. He came to 
her at length. 

Daisy,” he began, but there came a loud knocking 


DAISY BREI^TWELL. 


413 


at the door— an imperative knocking : some one had 
come who was determined to enter. 

Daisy, disappointed and almost heart-sick, rose 
quickly— so quickly in her excitement, that Thurston 
imagined she looked relieved. 

Must you answer it he said, scarcely knowing 
what he said. 

Why, certainly,” smiling faintly. If he only would 
tell her not to ! 

Then allow me to go : you must not breathe the 
night air. If it is any one to see your father,” he added 
with a hope that it might be, I will say that he is to 
he seen at the church.” 

But it was not any one to see the father, but some 
one to see the daughter, and the daughter alone — not 
Dr. St. James, too ; and this very remarkable individ- 
ual was Mark Millard. 

He was bowing and smiling as he entered the sitting- 
room, and the doctor was following him, and frowning. 
Daisy, ready to cry at his coming and to laugh at his 
comical appearance in his flashy garments, greeted him 
with marked coolness. But he, not heeding this, seated 
himself, without invitation, and began to talk, and not 
only began, but kept it up. The replies he received 
were few indeed and far between — it was not every one 
who was able to answer or appreciate the wisdom of his 
conversation. Thurston and Daisy certainly were not 
able at that time. 

Thurston sat dignified and silent, waiting for him to 


414 


DAISY BKEIJTFELL. 


go, aod torturing himself with the idea that Daisy 
looked pleased and entertained. In the old days of his 
confident manly love, he had feared nothing ; there liad 
been no rivals, and he was too thoroughly a man to 
imagine a refusal possible. 

As they thus sat there, Mark talking largely with a 
view of impressing Daisy with a sense of his wealth and 
greatness and subduing the doctor — which he imagined 
he had been quite successful in doing ; Daisy anxious, 
wondering what Thurston would have said, tormented 
by Mark, wishing he would go, which she knew he 
would not ; Thurston jealous with a jealousy he had 
never known before — there came the sound of a child’s 
feet on the gravel walk, then on the porch. Two hearts 
hoped that service was over and Paul was returning. 
Then came the owner of the feet, knocking, as Paul 
never would have done. Daisy again rose to answer it, 
and Thurston again detained her. 

Allow me to be door-keeper to-night,” he said, 
going out. She did not return to her seat, hut stood 
listening, hoping to hear Paul’s voice, though the hope 
was founded only on her desire. It was a boy who had 
come ; some one was sick, dying perhaps, and the 
doctor was wanted immediately. She went into the 
entry when she heard that, forgetting Mark and good 
manners alike. 

Are you going ? ” she said, as the boy ran off. 

^^I must,” Thurston returned, taking his hat. He 
stopped a moment by the door, not heeding that the 


DAISY BREHTWELL. 


415 


night air blew strong npon her. I had intended to 
remain until they came from church,” he said, in a low 
voice, then, remembering that he had no right to come 
between her and another, he added '' good-night,” has- 
tily, and went out, pulling the door shut after him. 

‘^That man seems to have a great deal o’ practice,” 
Mark observed in an off-hand manner as Daisy, duty 
bound, returned to the sitting-room. ^^Now for my 
part, I haven’t any faith in him ; he don’t know two 
things ; he’s bounded. The old man and I were talking 
it up the other day, and I’ve about made up my mind 
to send to the city for a doctor who knows B from a 
bull’s foot. Yes, I think I shall do so.” 

^^It would not be of any use ; for no one in Newfield 
would have any physician but Doctor St. James,” Daisy 
said with spirit, then remembering that Thurston did 
not need and could not desire her defence, she said 
no more. 

All that may be, but between me and you, Newfield, 
taken as a whole, ain’t over bright. The villagers are 
well enough as far as they go, but they can’t go far ; for 
they hain’t no brains to go with. It’s a blessing that 
we’ve moved in the place. Folks of our expectations 
and learning ain’t to be sneezed at.” Here he kindly 
paused to allow Daisy to digest what he had said, but 
instead of digesting, she looked at the clock to see how 
long it might be before service was over. Twenty 
minutes at the least ! Could she endure it ? 

Meantime Mark edged his chair closer. 


416 


DAISY BEENTWELL. 


Now, there’s the store,” he went on ; there ain’t 
a place in town that’s doing the business that I do there. 
What more could a fellow offer a girl ? There it is in 
plain sight. What’s a doctor’s practice ? A few aches 
and pains, a wind that blows others ill an’ him good. 
He ain’t got the deeds to show for it, no securities that 
folks’ll alwa’s be ailin’. Here,” drawing a roll of papers 
from his coat pocket, ‘^is receipted bills for all them 
drugs. Just cast your eye over them, ” giving them to her. 

“I shouldn’t understand them if I did,” Daisy said, 
smiling in her great amusement, but not taking them. 

Mark saw the smile, and was encouraged to proceed — 
if he needed encouragement. 

I pay my way as I go. I pay for my clothes as I go, 
and for my jewelry too. There was a girl in New York,” 
he went on, ‘^what had her eye on me, but she wa’n’t 
my style, so I didn’t bite. She Avas too gaudy — nothing 
gaudy takes me. So,” putting the receipts into his 
pocket, ‘Hhat’s why I took to you. All you’ve got to 
do is to name the day.” 

The day ! ” she cried, moving her chair back, as he 
stretched out his yellow hand to take hers. 

Don’t be skittish. I know how girls play off. 
They think it makes a fellow like ’em more. Of course it 
don’t do to be too forward, but you can be forward with 
me if you like. Come rest on this bosom,” holding out 
his arms and expanding the said bosom. 

Mr. Millard — ” Daisy began, still retreating. 

^^Come rest on this bosom,” Mark kept on, ‘‘ come. 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


417 


love, come ! ’Tain’t every day you have such an offer 
made you. Men don’t grow on bushes,” seeing that 
she came not and rested. 

No ; nor every day that I have to refuse an offer as 
I shall yours,” returned Daisy very ungraciously, consid- 
ering that Mark had paid her the greatest compliment 
that man can pay to woman. 

Don’t be offish,” still extending the arm. Don’t 
be offish. ’Taint every woman that I ask to be Mrs. 
Mark Millard. Come rest on this bosom.” 

I am very sorry that you have asked me ; for I can- 
not accept your offer,” she said, more kindly, yet so 
determinedly that it entered Mark’s dull brain that she 
might be in earnest. His arms fell, and. hung at his 
sides, his bosom subsided, and he sat staring at her with 
his weak watery eyes. Service would soon be over now : 
they were singing the last hymn, and then she would be 
freed from his hateful presence. 

I ain’t to be sneezed at that way,” he said at length. 

’Twas the old woman any how,” he added : she’d 
set her heart on having you for a daughter-in-law, and 
so I popped the question for her.” Then he stared 
again in silence. Daisy sat with bent head, toying with 
her handkerchief, and listening to the singing, wonder- 
ing if they would sing the whole hymn through, and was 
thankful when she heard the Amen.” 

Mark was surprised. He had never been so much 
surprised in his life before, nor had he ever known of 
such poor taste ; it was evident that that ignorant doc- 
18 * 


418 


DAISY BKEN^TWELL. 


tor was preferred before him — ^him : Mark Millard ! 

Well,” be said, there’s no accounting for taste, as 
the old woman said when she kissed her cow.” 

As this remark admitted no reply, Daisy made 
none. The people were coming out of the church, and 
Mark, hearing them, rose to go. 

‘‘ It’s time I was off. I’ll see you again about this 
matter or send the old woman round.” 

It will be of no use : you have my answer.” 

Mark muttered, good night,’’ and went off in a 
maze. 

The family came from church, but Daisy told nothing 
of what had occurred. They saw a bright spot on 
either of her cheeks, and from that might she grew 
weaker. 

But the doctor came no more. 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 


“ For all the Athenians and strangers which were there, spent their time 
in nothing else hut either to tell or to hear some new thing.” 

—Acts xvii : 21. 


0/’ said Mrs. Barker, at the supper table a few 



^ evenings later — no, I never was as deceived by 
any family in my life before as I was by those Platts : 
and Mis’ Pepper she says so, too. But it is over now.” 

^^Why, I don’t see that they’ve done any thing 
dreadful,” said Miss Amelia. 

I did like Mis’ Platt,” Mrs. Barker went on, ^^and 
so did Mis’ Pepper and the deacon and all of us ; and 
that shows just exactly the ingratitude of human nature, 
and how we were deceived. Mis’ Pepper says a minister 
ought to come on six months, trial before he is called, and 
so I think. A man that’ll stand a six months’ trial is 
the man we want. Mr. Pepper was there when we were 
talking and of course he had something to say to hurt 
her feelings. ^ A new broom sweeps clean,’ says he, ^but 
you can’t expect much of an ol(j. one, specially after 
you’ve picked it all to pieces.’ ^ There,’ says Mis’ Pepper, 
flying up, ^we’ve heard enough of you : you may leave. 

^ Of course,’ says he, going out, ^ nobody wants to hear 
plain truths.’ Oh, it’s awful how that man does abuse 
her ! It makes my hair stand on an end to hear him 


420 


DAISY BEEXTWELL. 


talk to her. There, ’Melie, the doctor’s tea is out. That 
hired girl of yours, Jessie, has let this tea boil.” 

^‘Mother dear,” said Mrs. Scott, sweetly, tell, us 
what dreadful thing Mrs. Platt has been guilty of.” 

‘^Nothing so particular, only folks are disappointed 
in him. Deacon Lawson don’t like his preaching ; he 
thinks his sermons are too long. Deacon Calfort says 
he don’t pray earnest enough. Mis’ Grimms says he 
don’t read enough Bible out of the pulpit, and that he 
wears his vests too low. And Mis’ Wemple, her sister-in- 
law (Mis’ Grimms was a Wemple), says that he drawls 
the hymns, when he reads them, and so it goes ; every- 
body is disappointed. And then Mis’ Platt she’s insulted 
Mis’ Lawson and Mis’ Sugden right face to face, and 
that ain’t what a minister’s wife is for. You know your- 
self, doctor, it’s the pride of a church to have a minis- 
ter’s wife look nice and genteel. Now, there’s Mis’ 
Brentwell she alwa’s looks like a lady ; but Mis’ Platt is 
a sliame to the community. She’s dreadful neat and all 
that, but there ain’t any style to her. Mis’ Calfort and 
Mis’ Pepper got talking about it one day, and they came 
to the conclusion that she’d look better if she wore hoops. 
So they talked it up among the ladies, and appointed 
Mis’ Sugden and Mis’ Lawson a committee to talk to her 
about it.” 

Xnd they went ? ” said the doctor. 

They went, and she insulted them.” 

I should have turned them out of doors,” said Silas. 

^"If she’d have turned them out of doors, Mr. Platt 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


421 


would haye been turned out of the church very soon. 
We thought, you see, that she’d say, ^ Thank you for 
your kind suggestion, ladies. I shall act upon it,’ and 
go out that afternoon and get a hoop skirt, hut not she. 
She sat bolt upright and looked ’em straight in the face, 
and said, ^ Ladies, allow me to manage my own private 
affairs. ’ J ust that and no more, and hasn’t worn — ” 
‘^Oh, you’re just at tea!” called a cheery voice at 
the window, and in a moment Martha Morris’ rosy face 
appeared at the door. Good evening, all,” she said, 
as she entered. 

^^Sit down with us and have a cup of tea,” said Miss 
Amelia, when they had returned her greeting. 

Oh my stars ! I couldn’t drink a drop to save me. 
I’ve just got up from the supper table. Maria’s home, 
and I ran off and left her to wash the dishes. How 
cosey you do look here I Mis’ Scott, what do you think 
Mr. Van Pike says about your house ?” 

No litNe bird has told me.” 

He says that it’s the handsomest house in Newfield, 
and that it displays — oh I forget what I but it displays 
something.” 

How are Maria and her husband getting on ? ” in- 
quired Miss Amelia. 

Oh splendid ! ” walking around to look at the 
pictures on the walls. John’s coming down after 
Maria next week, and he’s going to bring a cousin of 
his with him, for me, he says. The very idea ! ” with 
a loud laugh, as though I’d look at him. His name is 


422 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Jonathan Vanderwerken. Did you ever ! I couldn’t 
say it in six months. Oh,” she said, turning from the 
pictures, and sitting down, ‘^did you hear the news 
about the Bornes ? ” 

Law no,” said Mrs. Barker, what is it ? ” 

‘‘ He’s left the Baptist and joined our church.” 

“Do tell,” cried Miss Amelia. 

“ Yes : and he’s got a place where he gets twelve 
hundred dollars a year salary, and lives in an elegant 
house, and keeps seven servants.” 

“ Well, I’m glad to hear that the poor man’s 
troubles are over,” said Miss Amelia. 

“ Who told you ? ” asked Mrs. Barker, doubtingly. 

“ Oh, he wrote to Mr. Brentwell, and I heard it from 
there. Oh,” suddenly, “did you hear about Mark 
Millard ? ” 

“ No,” said Mrs. Barker, “ what happened to him ? ” 

“ He’s engaged,” was the announcement. 

“Engaged ! To whom ? Who would marry him ? ” 

“ That horrid fellow ! ” said Mrs. Scott, shuddering 
to think how horrid he really was. 

“ Why ! Who do you think ? I could scarcely be- 
lieve my ears when I heard it, but it’s true ; he told the 
person who told me.” 

“ But who is it ? ” said Mrs. Barker again. 

“ Daisy Brentwell,” was the announcement. 

“ Daisy Brentwell ! ” every one echoed, yet not every 
one : Thurston was silent. 

He sat like one suddenly turned to marble. Many 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


423 


curious eyes were turned on his face ; but they saw no 
sign. There was a sound of voices in his ears, but he 
heard no words— sure he had heard enough. After a 
long time — it seemed long to him — they left the table, 
and then he found himself alone in his office, sitting be- 
fore his table, leaning his arms upon it, and his head on 
his arms. Not thinking — not daring to think, but 
almost stupefied by the blow. There must have been a 
few thoughts left, or may be it was a dumb instinct that 
prompted the next action. And it was a long time 
before he roused himself, and then he wrote a letter. It 
was addressed to a stranger, a Dr. De Laine, of New York. 

In less than a week he received an answer to it. It 
seemed to be a favorable answer ; for he smiled as he 
read it, and then sat down and wrote to his mother. 
And when she received this, she was glad, too. '^Dear 
boy,’’ she said, when she had read it, and he’s coming 
home at last.” 

It was soon known in Newfield that Dr. St. James 
had gone, and that a stranger was in his place. Mother 
Wade took it upon herself to investigate the matter. 
And the morning after the arrival of the stranger, she 
might have been seen going from house to house, collect- 
ing facts, comparing notes, and finally, when all was 
known that could be known, and a great deal more — 
she repaired to the only house in the village where they 
never knew the latest news, that she might be first to 
impart the information. That house was St. Paul’s 
rectory. 


424 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


Daisy was lying on the lounge, looking pale and 
weak. Mrs. Brentwell sat near her, sewing, and Mr. 
Brentwell was reading aloud. Mother Wade entered 
with her usual profound curtesy. 

Law, how bad you look ! ’’ was her greeting to 
Daisy. ‘‘Itjes seems as ef you get poorer every d^y. 
Why there ain’t nothin’ but skin and bones left. I was 
a-sayin’ to Jane this morning, ^ Jane,’ says I, ‘ I never 
see any one dwindle away as Daisy Brentwell does. It’s 
my opinion,’ says I, ‘that she won’t live the winter out.’ 
‘An’ mine too,’ says Jane. I’m rale consarned for you. 
How’s your cough ? ” 

“ It’s better than it was, thank you.” 

“No, it isn’t, and never will be,” sitting down, 
“ while you keep worrying about Horatio. You hain’t 
submitted to the Lord’s will. The devil works in you 
yet. He alwa’s works in young folks. When I was 
young, I was jes full of him. I’d want every thing my 
own way, which folks can’t have in this world. All 
good things is took from ,us. But then, where’s the use 
o’ sighin’ ? this ain’t our abidin’ place ; we’re only here 
for a few days. What’s the use o’ rebellin’ where rebel- 
lin’ don’t make things no better ? You’ve got to submit 
after all. Ain’t them your sentiments, Mr. Brentwell ? ” 
“ I think my daughter does submit. We all submit 
to the chastening, and we know that God does not will- 
ingly afflict us. But we are human, and we mourn ; 
but not as they who have no hope — ” 

“Jus’ so,” interrupted Mrs. Wade. “That’s jus’ 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


425 


what I was tellin’ Jane. But it ain’t his dyin’ so much 
as the awfulness of his goin’ olf so sudden-like, without 
a moment to prepare in. As I was tellin’ Jane, if he’d 
’ave died in his bed, he might have had time to think 
over his sins and repent of ’em. Still there was one 
comfort ; Horatio wa’n’t no dancer.” 

It is truly an awful thing,” Mr. Brentwell replied, 
to be summoned from this world without a moment’s 
warning ; but my son had no unsettled account with his 
Maker : each night found him prepared for death. He 
knew not the day nor the hour, and he watched.^^ 

^^So I was telling Jane. ^Jane,’ says I, ^no one 
knows the day nor the hour.’ My Jane is an awful 
serious minded girl, ef she ain’t no professor. She was 
telling me this morning only, how she’d like to join the 
’Piscopals, hut she couldn’t endure to go there and hear 
Hattie Putnam play that organ after the beautiful way 
Horatio used to play it. It was affecting to hear her 
talk.” 

‘^1 am sorry that should keep her from service,” 
said Mrs. Brentwell. ""Hattie is a fine organist.” 

"" Oh, she plays well enough, but it reminds her of 
Horatio. Law ! to think how intimate the doctor and 
him was, and now they’re both gone.” 

"" Both gone ! ” said Mrs. Brentwell, while Daisy 
turned her face anxiously toward the woman. 

"" Why, haven’t ye heard ? Well they do say that the 
doctor went off without biddin’ a soul good-bye. Crissy 
Wells was hintin’ that every thing wa’n’t all right, and 


426 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


I heard to-day that he owes Miss ’Melia a hundred dol- 
lars for board. But the new doctor is mighty spruce- 
looking. Have you seen him ? ” 

Why, Dr. St. James has not gone away,” said Mr. 
Brentwell, I saw him yesterday.” 

He went last night, and the new one came yester- 
day morning. He’s come for good, they say. Dr. St. 
James ain’t never coming back.” 

Daisy listened, with her dark eyes fixed on the 
woman’s face. Then she closed them to shut out the 
world. She felt as if some one had plunged a knife 
into her heart, and that her life blood was flowing out 
drop by drop. She sank down, down, down, and knew 
no more for a long time. They saw that she lay motion- 
less, and with closed eyes, but she lay that way so often 
now, that they thought she’ was only resting. 

Paul entered at that moment, and as usual drew 
all attention upon himself. 

^^Well, Master Paul,” said Mrs. Wade, ^^you look 
well.” 

am well,” he returned in as polite a tone as he 
could consistently use to Mrs. Wade. 

Do you go to the ’Cademy nowadays ?” 

He replied that he did. 

thought one spell o’ sendin’ Tim there, ah’ 
went up to have a talk with the teacher about it, an’ I 
found out that they didn’t teach ’breviations, so I give 
up his going. You can’t make a gentleman of a boy 
till he learns ’breviations.” She did not stay long after 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


427 


Paul came.' She had told all she knew, ^nd what else 
should she stay for ? 

“ What makes Daisy so white and still ?’’ Paul cried, 
as the door closed after the old woman. 

Then they found that she had fainted. 


OHAPTEE XL. 


Come in the evening, or come in the morning ; 

Come when j^ou’re looked for, or come without warning ; 

Kisses and welcome you’ll find here before you, 

And the oftener you come here the more I’ll adore you 1 
Light is my heart since the day we were plighted ; 

Red is my cheek that they told me was blighted.” 

—Thomas Davis. 


D aisy was very ill for weeks after that. Death 
came and stood by the bedside and stretched 
forth his bony hand to grasp her, hut the angel of life 
came between. There was a fierce conflict ; the angel 
conquered, and Death fled for this time : Daisy lived. 

She opened her eyes to consciousness one chill No- 
vember morning, and looked wearily around the room. 
'Her mother sat by her side, and a grave-looking gentle- 
man stood near. Christie was there, looking pale and 
with swollen eyelids, as if she had shed many tears. 
Lestie, more gentle than ever before, bent over and 
kissed her, which made the grave gentleman smile ; 
then she turned her face away and closed her tired eyes 
again. She heard them say ^‘she will live now,” and, 
wondering what they meant, and why she should not 
live, slie went to sleep. 

She was stronger in a few days, and they told her 
how ill she had been, and that the grave, kind man was 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


429 


the new physician, Dr. De Laine, that Mrs. Wade had 
told them of that day now long ago. She gained 
strength slowly, and it was many days before she was 
able to sit up. On the first bright day they carried her 
down stairs, and she sat in the great rocking chair, 
brought from the parlor, wrapped in shawls with pillows 
at her back. Lestie sat with her, while the others were 
busy. She had a great quantity of news to tell her. 
Her illness had seemed a signal for every one to make 
some change in their manner of living, or to give up 
living altogether. Some had died, and some were mar- 
ried. Martha Morris was really engaged to a Mr. Jona- 
than Yanderwerker, J ohn West’s cousin. Mrs. Scott had 
gone back to the city, and every one said that she had 
refused Mr. Green before she went. The Millards had 
failed, and gone away ; no one knew where, and the old 
mansion was deserted again. “ And do you know, 
Daisy,” Lestie continued, ^Mt came out afterward, that 
Mark was very intemperate, and that he was not ill at 
all. Dr. De Laine told us about it, but it seems Dr. St. 
James knew it always though he never told us. Wasn’t 
he queer ? Dr. De Laine is going soon. I don’t know 
who’ll come in his place. Every one hopes Dr. St. 
James will come back, but it’s not likely : he’s out 
West now—” 

Mrs. Brentwell called Lestie just then, and Daisy 
was left alone. She leaned her head on her hand and 
gazed out of the window upon the bleak hills beyond 
the river, that were so green that bright morning they 


430 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


sailed to the island. The sun that had shone warm 
then, was hidden now by leaden clouds, and the river 
which had sparkled in its rays looked cold and dull 
reflecting those clouds. 

She thought of those who had gone to that excursion, 
and how some were far away, and how everything was 
changed. Mrs. Scott had left Newfield : Silas had gone 
to college. Thurston was gone too, forever, she said to 
herself, and all that was over. Paul was changed 
greatly. He whose constant misdemeanors had formerly 
troubled them so much, was now the pride of their 
hearts. And Horatio ! He was in Paradise. He alone 
of all that number was at rest ; the others, though many 
were far away, struggled on in the old life — but Horatio 
had entered the new. 

She buried Thurston in the grave with Horatio, and 
thought of him as dead, and loved him ^^for the love he 
bore,” in the days past ; but for her brother she mourned 
no longer ; he yet lived. Then she turned her thoughts 
to herself and remembered what a discontented jealous 
heart had been hers ; how unhappy she had been, when 
even Horatio and Thurston were both there, and loved 
her ! And to-day sitting by the fire, alone and ill, look- 
ing at the dull river and leaden clouds, there was a peace 
in her heart that she had never known before ; a peace 
that passeth all understanding ; a peace God sends to 
those who love Him, and put their whole trust in Him. 

* 

Christmas tide was drawing near. Snow covered 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


431 


the ground, and the villagers kindly informed each 
other, as usual, of the change in the weather. 

They were making the Christmas wreaths for St. 
Paul’s Church ; and a party of merry young workers 
were assembled in the school-room. Lestie and Christie 
were in the midst of them. Lestie was quieter than 
she was last year ; her voice was softer, and her laugh 
sounded less frequently. Silas, home for the holidays, 
was helping and hindering Christie. Herbert was in 
the church with those who were hanging the wreaths. 
Daisy and Paul were by themselves in the vestry room, 
which connected the school-house and church, and where 
the evergreens and holly branches had been taken, — 
breaking off twigs, which sundry small boys carried to 
the wreath-makers. 

I know the church won’t look anyhow this year, 
Daisy,” Paul was saying. They’ve got that wreath on 
the organ all crooked.” 

She turned, and looked out of the door. 

I don’t see that they have,” she said. 

"" Of course they have ; they ain’t to blame though. 
Its ’cause Horatio ain’t here to do it. There ain’t a soul 
in Hewfield that can hang a wreath like he could. How, 
is there ? ” 

He looked up into her face, as if her decision would 
settle the matter forever. 

Dear little Paul,” she returned, stroking his fair 
hair, we loved Horatio so much that we thought always 
that whatever he did was done exactly right. ’ 


432 


DAISY BREKTWELL. 


Well, he could hang wreaths right, and the church 
looked beautiful when he hung ’em. Don’t you remem- 
ber that Dr. Doreann said he never saw any thing so 
handsome as it was last year ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, I remember. And this Christmas they both 
will worship in a Temple not made or adorned by hands. ” 

‘^That’s so,” meditatively ; ‘^and we did not think 
so then either, did we ? I say, Daisy,” suddenly, 
^‘Horatio was pretty near right about Sam Lukens.” 

We always knew that ! ” 

^MYell, I know it now; and I’m mighty sorry for 
the way I acted. I used to do awful wicked things when 
you didn’t know it.” 

Daisy shuddered. Don’t tell me about it. It’s all 
over now.” 

You bet it is. I only wish Horatio knew what a ‘ 
good boy I am.” 

“ He does know ; he is with us as much as he was 
before. And he knows he did not give his life in vain.” 

I say, Daisy, Horatio died for me ; didn’t he ?” 

‘‘Yes, Paul,” she said, unhesitatingly. 

“ My elder brother.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well the Saviour is my Elder Brother. How, 
that’s just the way He died for us ; I’ve just thought ! ” 

“ Hot exactly the same, but it will make you realize 
some of the great love the Saviour has for us.” 

“ Yes ; and I’m going to be a good boy because the 
Saviour and Horatio died for me.” 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


433 


Daisy smiled at the child's understanding. She was 
glad that he had begun to realize the love of the Saviour 
in dying for him and she would not check his enthusiasm 
by drawing a line between His death and Horatio’s. 

‘‘Don’t you think,” he said, after a pause, “that 
Lestie is better than she used to be ? ” 

“ She’s more gentle.” 

“I’ll bet mother’s glad we’re going to be so good.” 

“ I know she is.” 

“ I don’t see how she used to stand us wicked chil- 
dren ; Horatio, you know, was the least little bit cross 
sometimes, that is, to me ; he never was to any one else 
Well, he’s all right now. Herbert and Christie always 
were good : they were born good, and you — ” 

“ Oh, I hope I shall never be angry again, Paul.” 

“I don’t believe you ever will.” 

“ Paul, are you there ? ” cried Herbert from the 
church. 

“Yes.” 

“ Come here and hold these wreaths for me. They 
have all gone and left me alone.” 

Paul brushed his work from his lap to the floor, 
and ran out. He soon forgot the greens in helping and 
advising Herbert, and did not return. Daisy, with her 
thoughts for company, did not heed his absence. Some 
one came into the room once, and stopping a moment, 
went away. She was sitting with her back to the door, 
and did not turn to see who it was. She heard her 
father’s voice as he came into the church, giving Herbert 


434 


DAISY BRENTWELL. 


some directions, and calling Paul down from the top of 
a high ladder. Then she heard him say, as though he 
were shaking hands with some one. My dear friend, 
this is a surprise ! When did you come ? ” 

The dear friend,” replied in such a low tone that 
she did not even catch the sound of his voice ; but she 
cared little. 

‘‘ Do you expect to remain in Newfield ? ” Mr. 
Brentwell continued. 

The friend must have said ^^yes,” for his next words 
were : am glad to hear that. All JSTewfield will be 

glad. I’ll see you again,” and went out. 

Some one came to the vestry door, and stood there a 
long time in silence. She thought it was Herbert, that 
he had come to see the effect of his work in the organ 
loft, and she did not turn her head. Then that some 
one came in, closed the door carefully, and came to her. 

Daisy.” 

Thurston ! ” she cried, springing up. 

He held out his arms to her, and she without farther 
bidding went to him. 

Daisy,” he said, as he held her to him ; I have 
come back to you. May I stay ? ” 

Thurston I Thurston, you must never leave me 
again.” 


THE END. 


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